


The Companion

by Fiona James (Bluewolf458), raynewton



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-24
Updated: 2014-09-24
Packaged: 2018-02-18 14:56:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 34,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2352422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluewolf458/pseuds/Fiona%20James, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raynewton/pseuds/raynewton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vulcans are bonded at 7;For some the bond doesn't take and Vulcan looks for Companions for these children on other Federation worlds</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Companion

The Companion

by Ray Newton and Sandy Newton (aka Fiona James)

Chapter 1

The teacher collapsed gratefully into her usual chair in the staffroom and gave a long, deep sigh. "Thank god for Fridays!"

"Don't know what you have to complain about, Kath," a colleague commented, slightly bitterly. "You don't have any Harry Symons in your class..."

There was an anonymous murmur of agreement. Kath Burnett, relatively new to the staff, had never had the dubious pleasure of Harry Symon in her class. Most of the others had, as he had made his disruptive way through school.

Kath had heard, of course, the speculations on the child's antisocial behaviour. It had started after Symon's failure to be selected by the Vulcan delegation that, every few years, visited Earth - and, it was rumoured, other Empire planets - to select the cream of the world's seven-year-olds, taking them to Vulcan to be reared as the Companions and confidantes of Vulcan children.

Nobody knew just what criteria were used in the selection. Intelligence, certainly - but that was not all, for often the brightest children were ignored in favor of those slightly less talented. Symon was one such. It now seemed obvious that the child was avenging himself on the world - and the school in particular - for the shame of being willing to go, and overlooked.

Kath Burnett sighed again. "There are times I'd willingly trade a little bastard like Symon for Jim Kirk," she said bluntly.

"Jim Kirk?" The Infant Mistress looked at her in shock. "Kathy, thank your lucky stars you've got a Jim Kirk in your class. Conscientious brains like that are all too few."

"They're all too difficult to live with, too," she said ruefully. "Do you know how I'm going to spend the weekend? Making out work assignments for him - he's finished all the exercises in the books - knowing that he'll do in five minutes what it's taken me an hour to write out. He'll catch up on me again by Wednesday, and I can't, in all conscience, ignore the needs of the others just to keep him busy. I've got Tony Viveash too, remember - completely illiterate, and even with that freak memory of his he still can't remember from one day to the next what an 'a' looks like." She glanced at another teacher. "Jim's already done most of the work for your stage, Rona - when you get him you'll have to go on to fifth and even sixth level work. I'm worn out keeping up with him. That child needs individual tuition, at his own pace all the time - given by a university professor."

"Hardly," the Deputy Head put in. "Oh, I grant you, freaks like that can happen, but the odds..."

"He is very bright," the Infant Mistress put in. "I wouldn't have made him out as brilliant as Kath obviously does, but he is a year older than when I had him..."

"And a year more mature," Kath Burnett agreed. She laughed wryly. "You know what the worst thing is, the thing that gets me more than everything else? I'm spending all my 'free' time making out assignments for him, and I don't expect I'll ever need them again. Yes - " she looked at the Deputy Head. "I know the odds. They say to me that my chances of ever having another pupil that bright are nil."

The door opened and the staff looked around curiously. Everyone was present...

The Headmaster, who normally remained in his room during the breaks - "so that everyone can talk about me in comfort" - entered. There was a slightly-dazed looked on his face.

"Is something wrong?" the Deputy asked anxiously. That sort of expression usually signalled trouble.

He held up a sheaf of papers. "The Vulcans are Questing."

There was a soft buzz, half-excited, half-apprehensive. Most of the staff remembered the last visit five years ago. Of the five children who had accepted the offer of Fostering, four had been taken. Their departure had left a gap, and the speed of the whole thing had left everyone feeling slightly breathless. It had unsettled everyone in the school for weeks.

"Miss Burnett," the Head went on, "Yours is the class primarily involved. The Consent Forms are to go to all children in the class whose birthdays fall between January 1st and July 31st and who are seven this year, and must be returned on Monday. You are to fill in the second page of the acceptances and return the forms to me by Tuesday morning. The Vulcan Questing party will interview the applicants on Tuesday afternoon, and those they accept will be collected from the school on Wednesday morning - which," he added bitterly, "does not give the parents much time to provide the clothes, etc., that the children are asked to take. The consenting parents will almost certainly have to buy these items before they know if their child had been acceptable to the Vulcans."

Kath took the papers he handed to her and glanced down at them. She had not seen one of the Vulcan Consent-to-Foster forms before - the Vulcans came only once every five to six years, and Fostering had only been introduced some twenty years before.

A Questing was never publicized. It simply happened. Opinion on it was mixed. Many people resented it, convinced that the aliens were removing the cream of their youth for some nefarious purpose. A handful saw deeper, convinced that the Vulcans were involved in a long-term programme to unify their recently-formed and still somewhat inchoate Empire by taking gifted children, bringing them up as Vulcans, then - eventually - returning them to Earth to rule as governors, giving the planet Human rulers who would be more easily accepted than the alien Vulcans. Even after fifty years of Vulcan overlordship, many Humans still resented their defeat by the more technologically advanced Vulcans, even although the advantages it had brought Earth far outweighed the few disadvantages.

"How many children are involved?" the Headmaster was asking. Kath pulled her attention from the form ("For what reason are you willing to have your child Fostered?") and from her wandering thoughts, and shook her head.

"I'll have to check the register," she said. "In theory, about half, but there is often that imbalance..."

"Yes, of course," the Headmaster agreed, and rose to leave. "I don't know why we were chosen," he said to the room at large, "but remember, how we conduct this reflects, not only upon us, but every member of our race."

He nodded and left. There was silence for a brief moment, and then the room exploded into an uproar of conversation.

***

Fourteen children - eight boys and six girls - were involved out of two classes. They left school that night looking slightly dazed and puzzled; one or two were a little apprehensive, one or two a little hopeful. Their classmates were equally dazed; some frankly glad that the were too young or too old to be considered; one or two openly jealous.

Jim Kirk was one of those feeling hopeful.

He knew he was intelligent, as well as being good at gym. While the matter of personal beauty was not yet of any significance to him , he had often enough heard adults commenting favorably on his appearance - and surely that was all the criteria the Vulcans were looking for. He had few doubts of his ability to persuade his mother to agree. Although she tried hard not to show it, he knew that she preferred his older brother Sam. And it would ease her financial situation too. Since his father's death two years ago money had been scarce, and Jim was mature enough, even at seven, to know it. Sam, he suspected, did not.

When he reached home, he gave his mother his best smile. "I got this form from the school. You'll let me go if they choose me, won't you? You wouldn't have to worry about money so much with just Sam here."

Mrs. Kirk looked first at her youngest son, who was radiating enthusiasm. Then she took the form and looked it over.

A Vulcan "Consent To Foster" form.

She registered the words with disbelief.

"We of Vulcan wish to offer to those of Earth's youth who fulfil certain criteria the opportunity to be educated on Vulcan. Children found who we believe will benefit from such an education will be Fostered with families chosen specifically for them; families who have a son or a daughter of approximately the same age. The children will be reared together as brothers or sisters. Arrangements will be made for them to socialize with other Humans on Vulcan so that they will not lose their sense of Terran identity during their formative years.

"Do you agree to your child being Fostered by a Vulcan family?

"For what reason to you agree?

"Is the child willing to go to Vulcan?

"Does (s)he realize that (s)he is unlikely to return to Earth for at least twenty years?

"What illnesses has (s)he had?

Mrs. Kirk glanced on to the second page, to be completed by the teacher. It mostly concerned academic achievement and assessment of conscientiousness, but one question near the foot of the page caught her attention.

"What is the child's reason for wishing to accept this opportunity?

Well, she reflected, she knew why Jim wanted to go. "You won't have to worry about money so much," he had just said.

Those words brought a surge of guilt. It would be a relief to be rid of one of her children, and Jim was the one she would... not prefer to lose, exactly, but would miss less. It would make life that much easier for herself, allow her to give Sam more opportunity for the future, while at the same time giving Jim an opportunity he would never have if he stayed at home, here on Earth. Guilt stabbed afresh. Why would she miss Jim less? Of her two sons, he was the more generous, more intelligent, less selfish... At heart, she knew that Sam neither knew nor cared that she was in financial difficulty. He saw only that he could not have the many things that he wanted to have.

She turned to the third page. It was written in Vulcan. Why would she miss Jim less?

That was not something she had any desire to think about. With a sigh, she reached for a pen and began to fill in the form.

***

Only three of the children in her class (and none from the other) brought in signed forms. Kath Burnett sighed a little as she took them in. She wasn't sure whether to feel exasperated that so few parents were willing to give their children this opportunity - though she privately felt that seven was very young to take them away from home - or anger that any of them were willing to let their children go.

Yet the three signed forms were not really a surprise.

Christine Chapel - sixth child in a family of ten. Bright - she would have shone in any other class, but here Jim Kirk's attainment dimmed everyone else's. This was undoubtedly the only chance she would ever have to escape from the poverty rut of her family background. If she stayed she could expect an early marriage, a life of drudgery, and probably an early death, worn out by the struggle to survive, to keep going in the face of utter poverty. Like her mother - thirty-three going on seventy. And indeed, her parents had given "to give her an opportunity we could not afford to give her" as their reason.

Donald Ross - the spoiled older child of rich parents. His nose had been put badly out of joint a few months previously by the unexpected arrival of a baby sister. Always used to getting his own way, he had become unmanageable since then, and his parents had possibly had enough of the stick they had made for their own backs. Their stated reason, however, was "To give him the chance to extend his education."

And Jim Kirk, for a reason almost identical to Christine's.

Kath Burnett set her class their first assignment of the day, then began filling in the second pages of the three Consent forms.

Most was routine, similar to school progress reports - standard of work, level of conscientiousness, general behaviour. She sighed as she ticked 'poor' for Donald, aware that she could be destroying his chance of a Vulcan education, knowing that she could not be less than completely honest. If she lied, stretched the truth even slightly, the Vulcans would be perfectly entitled to return, accuse her of incompetence, and have her removed from her post. They didn't often interfere in the day-to-day affairs of the ordinary people, but it was known that if they did feel the need to do so, the results were usually far-reaching for those concerned.

Finally she came to that last, loaded question: "What is the child's reason for wishing to accept this opportunity?"

One by one she called them out and asked the question.

"I'd like to be a doctor," Christine said, half shyly. "Or at least a nurse. But my parents couldn't afford to let me stay on at school long enough to qualify, even if I got a grant. On Vulcan I might get the chance."

Donald said brashly, "Earth's a nothing in the Vulcan Empire. There's a lot more out there. I don't want to be stuck here forever."

Jim Kirk, usually confident, said diffidently, "If the Vulcans take me, my mother wouldn't have to be responsible for me any more. She'll have more money for just herself and my brother, so she'll probably be able to let him go to university. He wants to be a biologist when he grows up."

Kath Burnett looked at him. "Wouldn't you be sorry never to see them again?"

The boy looked away. "Well... not really. I don't think Sam likes me very much, and Mum likes him better'n me. But... Well, this way we both stand a chance of doing what we want to do. If I stayed home, neither of us would."

"What do you want to do?" she asked.

"Travel," he said eagerly. "Be some sort of pilot - air or space shuttle, anything that flies..."

And you could go far, she thought. For your own sakes, I hope they take you - and Christine. Deliberately, she ticked the box marked, "Do you consider the child would benefit from being Fostered?" for them both, and signed it.

She left Donald Ross's blank.

***

The Questing team - two men and two women - arrived punctually at 1 PM. The three children were already waiting in the School Secretary's office. It was well known that Vulcans despised inefficiency, and the Headmaster was determined that things would go as smoothly as he could organize.

After a brief exchange of greetings, the Head of the Team asked, "How many candidates do you have for us?"

"Only three, I'm afraid, but then we have only fourteen children inside the age range specified -"

"Twenty-one percent response is approximately average," the Vulcan assured him calmly. "Their sexes?"

'Two boys, one girl."

The Vulcan nodded and reached for the Consent forms. He looked them over, handing each on to his colleagues as he finished with it. "You will please remain while we interview the children;" he said. "We will see the girl first."

He sat back. The two Vulcan women leaned forward, studying Christine as she came in. Clearly nervous, Christine bobbed an awkward curtsey. One of the women murmured something in Vulcan. The other nodded, and rising, moved forward.

She went down on one knee, bringing her head down to the child's level. "You wish to come to Vulcan, little one." Her voice was calm, quiet, calculated to reassure.

"Yes, ma'am." The child's voice was little more than a whisper.

"Do you understand that if we take you, you may not return to Earth? Much would depend on the wishes and career of your Foster Companion. Even if you do return one day, it will not be for many years. Do you understand that it is likely that you will never see your parents again?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Does this not concern you?"

"I will miss them," she whispered. "But it would be selfish of me to want to stay. There are so many of us, you see." She hesitated, then gathered her courage - this quiet woman looked sympathetic. "If I stay here, I'll have to leave school as soon as I'm old enough. I'd never be able to be a doctor then, or even a nurse."

"Are you quite sure you want to be a doctor, or even a nurse?" the questioner asked. "Human children often change their minds about what they want to do."

"Yes," Christine said firmly.

The Vulcan looked over at the Headmaster. "You have arranged for a room to be available for the physical examination?"

"Oh - yes, ma'am. The medical room has been put aside, the staff instructed not to send any sick child there this afternoon."

"Very well. We will see you again, Christine, to check your physical condition, before we decide."

"Yes, ma'am." She bobbed another curtsey and went out.

The leading Vulcan turned to the Headmaster. "She seems a very intelligent child to be the result of irresponsible breeding."

"It's... a little more complicated than that, sir," the Headmaster said. "The parents aren't really irresponsible. They belong to a religion that says a couple should have as many children as possible. They won't want to see Christine go, but they must realize that it's the only chance she'll get..."

The Vulcan made a note on Christine's form. "Next," he said.

Donald Ross entered exuding the brash self-confidence of a precocious child whose every whim had always been granted. The thought that he might fail had clearly never entered his head.

The male leader of the Questing Party observed the boy silently until the child's first assurance flattened and he began to fidget slightly.

"You wish to come to Vulcan," the man said then, quietly.

"Yes, sir!"

The Headmaster noted gratefully that Ross had apparently decided to be on his best behaviour, but he also felt that if the boy hoped to impress the Vulcans by his forwardness, he had misjudged his audience.

"Do you understand that if we take you, you may never return to Earth? That you may never see your parents again?"

"Earth's nothing in the Vulcan Empire," the boy repeated. "I don't care if I never come back." His confidence had returned full measure. He dearly expected his assurance to impress.

"Your parents?" the Vulcan asked again.

The boy shrugged carelessly. "I've got to think of my own future."

The Vulcan said something in his own language which was noted down. Then he continued, "What profession do you wish to follow as an adult?"

For the first time, the boy hesitated. "I don't know yet." His momentary uncertainty made him more boyish, more likeable for a moment. "But I don't get anywhere without a good education." He sounded as if he was parroting his father, the Headmaster thought, having been subject to several lectures by Ross Senior on the Importance of Education for his Son. Considering his father's manner, the boy's brashness was no surprise.

The Vulcan studied the boy for a moment, then turned and made a note. "You will be given a physical examination before we decide."

Ross recognized the dismissal, but took it to be pro forma. Confident of his success, the child swaggered out of the room.

"A spoiled brat, over-indulged, selfish and totally out of his parents' control," the Headmaster said bluntly.

"I note his teacher did not recommend him."

"I wouldn't have wasted your time with him if we had the right to screen the children first."

The Vulcan almost smiled. "True, he is not the type we want," he said, "but afterwards, we will be far away, and out of the reach of his resentment and his parents' censure. You must live with them."

The Headmaster was prevented from replying - if indeed he could have found anything to say - by the door opening to admit Jim Kirk. But he knew that between one moment and the next he had been converted into an active pro-Vulcan.

The Vulcan leader looked at the newcomer. "You wish to come to Vulcan," he said.

"Yes, sir." His voice was quietly respectful.

"Do you understand that you may never return to Earth, or see your parents again?"

"Yes, sir, but I must go - if you'll have me, that is. Since my father died we haven't had much money. But if she doesn't have me to look after, my mother will be able to send my older brother to university. We'd both get a chance. If I stay here, neither of us will. My mother wouldn't like that. But she'd rather let me go to give me a better chance. And I'd be selfish to want to stay."

A murmur in Vulcan, then, "What profession do you wish to follow as an adult?"

"I'd like to be in the crew of one of your Starships."

"If you are accepted, you will be tested for aptitude. You might not be wholly suitable for a Spaceship... or you might be more suited to something else."

Kirk smiled. "I'd like best to travel."

"There are other ways."

"Yes, sir."

"We will see you again before we decide." He watched Kirk leave and turned to the headmaster.

"He is of exceptional intelligence," the Headmaster said. "There isn't, unfortunately, the flexibility in our educational system for us to handle children like him to their best advantage - and there are so few like him. His teacher is currently giving him work normally assigned to children fully a year older, and feels that he really needs individual tuition at his own pace - something we don't have the staff available to provide, unfortunately. Terran educational authorities seem more interested in giving additional help to those of poor intellectual achievement - and I grant you, that's important - but in the process they ignore the needs of the really gifted child."

The Vulcan nodded. "I am surprised that anyone on Earth recognizes that. You seemed determined, as a race, to pull the gifted down into mediocrity."

"Most teachers recognize it. But it's electorally desirable to push the needs of the less gifted because there are so many more of them... or maybe it's just that they're more noticeable. So nobody listens to us."

"In that case, you may be gratified to learn that we propose to initiate a new system soon, whereby University students with sufficiently high marks at the end of their first year will be given the opportunity to complete their studies on Vulcan. At the same time, we will endeavor to ensure that not all of Earth's potential is lost to your planet."

'Soon' to the Vulcans might mean in another ten years, the Headmaster considered. They were known to give lengthy thought to any new scheme before implementing it. Yet they were unlikely to mention it unless they indeed planned to introduce it soon by Human standards. "Thank you for telling me. Be assured I will say nothing about it until the official announcement."

The Vulcan nodded acknowledgement. "It is a pity you were too old when Fostering was begun to benefit."

It took a moment for it to sink in. It was clearly a compliment. "Thank you, sir."

"We will complete the medical examinations of the children now. Afterwards, we would like to see - briefly - the other children who are seven years old."

The Vulcans took Christine Chapel and Jim Kirk; they also took Andrew Kidd, a new boy in the class. They visited his parents that evening and somehow persuaded them their son deserved the opportunity of a Vulcan education.

Donald Ross took his rejection badly, throwing a temper tantrum that impressed nobody. The Headmaster, after a moment, picked the boy up bodily, carried him back into the medical room, and shut and locked the door.

The others received the news with a mixture of elation and... not tears, exactly, but certainly they were upset. The two who had taken in signed forms had given the consequences of being chosen as much consideration as a seven-year old could, but now that the die was cast, the realization that tonight was the last they would ever spend at home set in. For Andy Kidd, realization had not yet set in.

The Vulcans, however, seemed perfectly satisfied with their reaction. Indeed, if either had expressed complete content with their acceptance, they would have been rejected even then.

Vulcan was not interested in the selfish, the unfeeling...

***

Kath Burnett fidgeted nervously as she gazed around the school hall, wishing for the hundredth time that the Vulcans would arrive. Punctuality was all very well, but on this occasion she was anxious for the children's ordeal to be over. Really, she thought, they should have been allowed to say goodbye to their families in decent privacy, but no - they had been instructed to gather at the school to await transport.

She looked around. Chris Chapel stood quietly clinging to her mother's hand, saying little but gazing at her parents as though she would never look away. Andy Kidd, white-faced with shock, looked as though he still could not believe what was happening.

Damn Vulcans! Kath thought bitterly. Surely they had enough willing volunteers without virtually kidnapping one small and very frightened boy.

Jim Kirk...it was hard to tell what he was thinking. He was certainly pale, but he smiled at his mother as though he was reassuring her. Kath found herself wondering how much he really wanted to go, and how much his willingness was due to a sense of being... dispensable in his mother's eyes.

Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted with the announcement that the Vulcans had arrived.

The final moments of parting were hurried and confused. It seemed only moments later that Kath stood with the Headmaster, watching as the tiny Vulcan ship rose gracefully into the air, carrying the children away from everything they had ever known. "We've got to believe that it's for the best, Kath," the Headmaster said quietly. "I've been... uneasy, I admit, but now... From what I've seen of these Vulcans, the children will be in good hands."

"Will they?" Kath looked up doubtfully. "I just wish we knew a little more about their reasons. What have we sent those children to?"

"We may never know," the Headmaster replied softly.

***

Chapter 2

For the children, events moved with bewildering speed. Perhaps it was deliberate, keeping them so occupied that they did not have time to look back. The small shuttle delivered Jim Kirk and his two companions to the Vulcan starship that hung in orbit around Earth, then left to collect its next passengers, for the Questing teams covered many countries in their search.

A Vulcan woman took charge of the three new arrivals, checking their names off on a list. They were then escorted separately to tiny cabins, which they were told would be their quarters for the journey.

"You will find clothes inside," the woman told Jim Kirk. "You will change and unpack. Remain in your room until you are called over the intercom, then come out into the corridor, where you will be told what to do next. Do not leave until you are called. The crew will be very busy until we leave orbit, and until then they will not have time, as they will later, to help you."

"Yes, Ma'am," Kirk said shyly as he walked into the tiny room.

The door slid shut behind him, and for a moment the child looked around at the sparsely-furnished room, the small narrow bed. Tears stung his eyes, but he would not cry - he was too old for tears. Determinedly, he swung his case up onto the bed and opened it. His mother had packed for him, and on top of the pile of clothes lay a book, the one recreational item he had been permitted to bring. Jim lifted and opened it, his fingers tracing the writing inside. His own name, and a message of love from his dead father. Suddenly his brave composure crumbled, and Jim Kirk sank down on the bed, tears falling at last as he realized that everything he knew was lost to him.

***

The children shuffled nervously into their seats, instinctively forming into groups with the others they had known before. Jim Kirk took his place between Chris Chapel and Andy Kidd, both of them looking as strange as he felt in their unfamiliar grey uniforms.

Some of the children hovered at the edges of the room, dearly not knowing anyone. Kirk smiled sympathetically at a dark haired, lost-looking boy near him, and indicated an empty place near Andy. Chris, he saw, had taken the hand of an African girl, and the two were already whispering together.

A sudden silence fell as a tall Vulcan made his way to the front of the room and stood waiting while the last few children found seats. He nodded, and a group of men and women moved among the children, handing each a bracelet and showing them how to fasten it.

"Good morning, children." The tall man spoke at last and was answered by a ragged murmur.

"I am Dr. Sabanat, the Quest-Leader, and I am responsible for you until we reach Vulcan. Today you will begin lessons which will help prepare you for your lives in your new homes. These are your Teachers." He indicated the men and women who had formed a group behind him. "You will meet them individually later. For now, you must learn Vulcan manners and customs, and of course you must learn our language. To help you, you will wear the translator bracelets you have been given, but you will wear them only in class, or when permission is given. My colleagues and I have taken part in several Quests. You will find that we all speak your language, and we do understand that this is not easy for you. We are here to help. Each of you will be assigned a personal supervisor for the journey. If you have any problems, any questions, if you are ill or troubled, go to your supervisor and help will be given. Never be afraid to ask if you are in difficulty.

"When you reach Vulcan, each of you will be sent to live with a Vulcan family where there will be a boy or girl of your own age. You will grow up in that family as Companion to the child, receiving exactly the same treatment, education and training." He smiled slightly. "Yes, and the same treats and amusements 

as well. As you grow older, you will learn more, but from the first, you must remember this - to your Companion, you will be the most important person in life, more necessary and more... loved...than parents, brothers or sisters, or any other friends. You must develop that same loyalty.

"Schools have been set up, which you will attend with your Companions. You will also meet together to talk and to play, both among yourselves and with children from other worlds who are also Companions.

"Now, does anyone have any questions? You, child - is there something you wish to ask?"

Kirk realized that the Vulcan was looking directly at him, and he colored nervously, horrified at being the center of attention. Getting respectfully to his feet, he stammered, "Sir... how will we choose our... our Companions?"

"A good question." The Vulcan smiled reassuringly. "There will be no choice. You will be assigned as a Companion on the basis of mutual compatibility."

He paused, seeing the puzzlement on the faces of the children, and turned for a whispered consultation with one of the Vulcan women, before facing the class again.

"We can tell which children will... 'Get on' best together," he explained more simply. "If you are to be happy among us, it is important that you feel at ease. Everything possible will be done to help you.

"And now I will leave you with Lady T'Keera for your first lesson. You have much to learn, but I am confident that you will not disappoint us - or your families."

There was a quiet buzz of conversation as the man left the room, followed by most of the adults. Silence fell as the woman took his place, and the children settled with some curiosity to their first lesson in Vulcan manners.

***

It was only when he realized that he could understand the conversation of the two Vulcans who were watching the busily- eating cadets that Jim Kirk remembered that he had not removed the translator bracelet. For a moment he hesitated, for the instructor had been most emphatic that they were to be worn only in class, then he shrugged philosophically. It was too late now. He would be seen if he tried to remove it, and anyway, there were no pockets in his uniform. Taking advantage of the adults' preoccupation, he surreptitiously pushed the bracelet further up his arm and returned his attention to his meal, warning himself not to betray that he understood anything of what was being said.

The food, at least, was good. The cadets were not stinted; there was plenty for all. Fresh strawberries - his eyes glistened - were a rarity at home, and when they did have them Sam always managed to hog the best. Picking up his spoon, he attacked his heaped plate with a sigh of satisfaction.

Gradually he became aware that the Vulcans had halted behind his chair, and with a child's curiosity he listened intently while pretending to concentrate only on his food.

"And this one?" It was Dr. Sabanat.

"James Kirk, Doctor," T'Keera replied. "An above-average batch of cadets, and his are the highest results in all categories. Intelligence, adaptability, physical beauty..."

"And an unusually high sensuality rating, I see," Sabanat commented. "Yes, I remember him now. Has my assignment recommendation been confirmed?"

"Yes, Doctor. There was no doubt. Unless they prove incompatible when assessed together, he is destined for Spock."

"Ah." It was a sigh of satisfaction. "I do not think there will be rejection. I know Spock's patterns too well. I feared difficulty with a match for him, but from these results Kirk will be an ideal Companion for the L'landir. It is fortunate that Sendar and T'Mara are themselves Teachers - the Cadet's education will be closely supervised at all times."

Kirk promptly lost all interest in the conversation. Education, which seemed so important to adults, was at best a necessary evil to a seven-year-old boy.

But who was this Spock he seemed destined for? And what was a L'landir, anyway?

And what would Vulcan be like? He still suffered from severe attacks of homesickness, but these were interspersed with a growing excitement. He couldn't wait until the journey finally ended!

***

The weeks of the journey were finally over, and Vulcan awaited them. The assembled Cadets herded close together, boys and girls alike exhibiting a not unnatural nervousness as they said goodbye to their friends. They would meet again, of course, but after today, their lives and behaviour would be governed by very different rules.

Dr. Sabanat, watching them, was satisfied. Certainly an impressive group, he decided, and the L'landir's Companion was outstanding, even at so young an age. Vulcan would heave a collective sigh of relief when his report was made. Bad enough that a hereditary member of the Council should be orphaned before his fifth year, but that he should also prove incompatible with his selected wife had meant a long, anxious search for his match. Kirk was, indeed, a perfect telepathic fit, and now the young L'landir would survive his pon farr to transmit his bloodline to another generation.

Some members of the Council had not been pleased that a Vulcan of such high rank had been included in the experiment, but the results so far had been encouraging, and Sabanat had fought hard for his inclusion, pointing out that Spock's Human blood might well mean that he would be best served by a Companion of his mother's race. Certainly, Sabanat acknowledged, he had been influenced by his own son's obvious contentment with his Bonding - Sorel had been of the first generation of subjects - but if the experiment was to succeed fully, it must be proved beyond doubt that no matter how sensitive the mind of the Vulcan, the Human could be entrusted with his sanity.

His thoughts were interrupted as the transporter officer signalled that he was ready to beam down the first of the Cadets, and Sabanat returned to his duties. He would escort Kirk personally - and he would monitor the matching until the day of its fulfilment.

***

Jim Kirk looked up, and further up, at the tallest, thinnest man he had ever seen in his short life. "How do you do, sir?" he managed politely, instinctively moving closer to Dr. Sabanat, who was at least familiar to him. A firm yet gentle hand urged him forward.

The man inclined his head. "Welcome to Vulcan, James Kirk. I am Sendar, your guardian - this is T'Mara, my wife."

"Ma'am," Kirk whispered, awed by the cold, regal beauty of the woman.

"And this is Spock, L'landir of Sas-a-shar, your Companion."

Kirk stared curiously at the Vulcan boy, only a few months older than he, who stepped forward, his hand outstretched. Only just in time did he remember the ritual greeting, and reached in turn to touch the slim fingers. He recalled that they had been told L'landir was a title of some importance, but no one had told him how this person should be addressed.

"Hello, sir," he said at last, shyly.

"You will call me Spock, as is fitting between Companions." The warmer-than-Human hand lingered on his for a moment. "On Vulcan, you take your rank from me. That means you call no-one 'sir' unless I do - and there are few who outrank me," the boy said with unconscious arrogance, studying Kirk with a frank curiosity that equalled the Human's.

"I'm sorry."

"It does not matter. You are not yet completely familiar with our ways." Spock turned to Sendar. "If you win excuse us, I want to show James the house."

"Of course, Spock," the older man replied. "It will be best if he learns the household routine from you. Today let him settle in. Tomorrow will be time enough to begin your training together."

Kirk followed the older boy on a tour of the labyrinthine house. He tried to remember the layout of the innumerable rooms, passages and stairways, but the sheer complexity of the building bewildered him, and at last he sighed wearily. "I'll never remember all this," he protested.

"You will learn it all in time," Spock promised. "Come, James... I do not care for that name," he complained. "It sounds... cold."

"My friends call me Jim," Kirk offered.

"Then I will call you Jim, but no one else must do so. To all others you will be James. Now, we will go to our room and find you some more suitable clothes. I dislike that uniform, and it is not fitting for my Companion to be so meanly dressed."

"It is hot," Kirk agreed, eyeing the other boy's tunic enviously as they walked up yet another stairway. They passed a window and he looked out, pausing to gaze longingly at the gardens below. A pool glinted in the sunshine.

"We can bathe, if you wish," Spock said, following his gaze. "Can you swim?"

"Yes, quite well. It's one of the few things I can do better than Sam."

"Sam?"

"My brother."

"I am your brother now." The dark head lifted with the arrogance Kirk had seen before. "We are to learn of each other, Jim, and the most important lesson is that we will one day be one heart, one mind, one flesh. I must be more important to you than this... Sam."

"Well..." Kirk shifted his feet uneasily. "I don't like Sam all that much," he confessed. "He's older than me, and my mother likes him better. She never really wanted me after Dad died..."

"I want you." Spock laid his arm around the younger boy's shoulders. "You will be happy here," he promised.

Kirk glanced up at him. He would never have had anything to do with any kid at school - on Earth, he reminded himself - with that type of superior attitude. But this Spock - somehow it seemed natural, and right. "Yes... yes, I think I will be," he said wonderingly.

Spock did not remove his arm as they continued up the stairs.

"This is our room," Spock was saying.

Jim looked around curiously. The first thing he noticed was a huge animal lying on a rug. Jim stared at it, slightly taken aback by the long curved teeth projecting from the massive jaws.

Spock noticed how his attention was drawn to the sleeping animal, and smiled. "Come and meet I-Chiya," he invited. "My pet sehlat. He looks fierce but sehlats are completely harmless. It is many thousands of years since his kind used their fangs in combat. Wake up, I-Chiya! Here is a new friend for you."

The animal raised a sleepy head. Jim was slightly uncertain but unwilling to admit this to his new acquaintance. After all, this was now his home, and he must at least attempt to be accepted as an equal by this new 'brother'. He had come from being half- bullied by one big brother, he did not want to experience that again.

He moved forward and held out a tentative hand. The sehlat sniffed at his hand and gave a sort of rumbling purr. Gaining courage from this, Jinn patted the great furry head gently. I Chiya pushed against his hand impatiently, and he scratched harder, suddenly seeing the great fanged beast as nothing more than a friendly dog. Spock smiled at him.

"You see?" he asked. "Anyone I bring into this room, he knows is a friend. He will always know you as a friend now. If we had met him outside this room, it would have been harder, and outside the house, harder still. But he would have learned," he added confidently. "He is a good guard for us. Sehlats are possessive, and can attack someone they distrust, or whom they think plans to harm their masters. I-Chiya must learn that you are now his master too."

"Oh, no," Jim exclaimed. "He's your pet - how could I expect you to share him with me like that? It'll be enough if he knows me and accepts me."

"No, Jim. You are my Companion. I know the custom is not known on your Earth, but here, Fostering is an old and honorable custom, and fostermates - Companions - usually become closer than even blood kin, and share everything. Everything, Jim. I know, at the moment all this is strange to you. You must feel that you have nothing to give, because you came here with so little. You will find that you are wrong. You will have much to give to me in the years to come. We will discover as we grow older. For now, can you not accept that it gives me pleasure to share my pet with you?"

Jim stared at him, wanting to accept the gift, but pride held him back.

Spock went on. "Did you have a pet on Earth?"

"No." Briefly, Jim thought back to the days when he did have a pet dog, the good days when his father was still alive. Toby had been his. His father had given him Toby as a puppy. His father, who had liked dogs... and had liked Jim. An unbidden tear spilled, he fought to keep from crying.

"Do you miss your old home?" Spock asked curiously.

Mutely, he shook his head. Then, resolutely, "No. But... I was remembering... We did have a dog. But my mother gave Toby away after my father died. She said we couldn't afford to keep him, but if Sam had wanted him, she'd have managed somehow. But Sam didn't like Toby... and I don't think Toby liked him much either. She... she gave him away to someone who lived a long way away, too... she said it wasn't fair to the dog to be near where he used to live, give him divided... divided loyalties, I think it was... but sometimes I used to wonder if she'd really had him put down."

"Oh." Spock was unsure of what was best to say. His short life had given him no experience of dealing with this sort of situation, even though he often sat in with his guardian/regent when the latter was hearing complaints. "Surely she wouldn't do that, Jim. She would know it would hurt you... "

"She knew that losing Toby would hurt me, and that didn't stop her." It was a child's hard, simple logic. "She was always good at finding excuses that sounded good, but... she was glad your people came when they did. You took me off her hands in a way that made her look good - it made it look as if she was only interested in my future." Suddenly impatient with the conversation, Jim moved over to a window and stared out, looking at, but not seeing, the flowering bushes in the garden.

The sehlat padded after him on huge silent paws and nudged him with its shaggy head. He looked around and caressed it gently.

"I-Chiya knows you are unhappy," Spock said softly.

"Unhappy?" Jim said, almost surprised. "No, I'm not unhappy... not really. Just... remembering Toby and how it used to be when Dad was alive... If he'd still been alive, you know, I'd not be here today."

"Are you so sure?" Spock asked quietly. "Sometimes the Consent Form is only a formality. Some candidates - a few - a very few - are so suitable that the Questing Party determines to obtain them, willing or not."

"Dad would never have given me up," Jim said confidently. "Never."

Spock said nothing more, unwilling to undermine the younger boy's confidence in his dead father, but he knew that once the Questing Party had determined Jim's suitability as his Companion, nothing would have deterred them. However, the situation had not arisen, and the Human had been willing - more than willing - to go along, consent to Fostering...

Jim turned his attention back to the room. It was sparsely furnished, but then, furnishing was something in which he had very little interest. Two big cupboards - "The one on the right is yours," Spock told him - a table with two chairs beside the window, two bookcases flanking the window. Surprisingly heavy curtains hung framed the window, a deep rich scarlet that his boy's soul found attractive. The floor was also covered by a thick carpet whose flamboyance matched that of the curtains. At one end of the room was a big fireplace, in which a small fire burned. Jim was faintly surprised. The Vulcan day was hot. Then memory of a geography lesson stirred. Hot desert worlds frequently experienced frosty nights. In another hour or so, a fire might be welcome.

The only other item of furniture in the room was a big double bed, hung around with tapestries. Jim stared at it blankly.

The best thing about the trip here had been his single bunk. Since moving into a smaller house after his father's death, he had had to share a bunk with Sam, and the older boy had resented it bitterly. Himself a restless sleeper, he accused Jim of being the restless one. He had so terrorized the younger boy with his accusations that Jim had become accustomed to sleeping on the very edge of the bed, giving his brother a full three-quarters of it. The luxury of a single bunk to himself had been like heaven... and now he must go back to sharing a bed once more.

But Spock did not seem to resent him as Sam had. This was better than anything he could have hoped for at home... no, on Earth. This was home now. Uncomplaining, Jim resigned himself to more uncomfortable nights.

***

Spock was puzzled. Jim had settled in well, adapting to the greater heat and gravity of Vulcan with very little trouble. He had been far quicker to adapt to their educational system than any of the other Outworlders, and was rapidly settling into a position in class that was well above many of the Vulcan students. His study of their language was progressing well, and he rarely had to rely on his small translator.

But he seemed to find it hard to relax.

Even in bed, Jim seemed tense. Especially in bed, Spock decided one evening, watching his Companion play with I-Chiya, who had elected himself Jim's constant companion. That alone was enough to alert Spock: sehlats were empathically alert to their masters' frame of mind, and if I-Chiya felt that Jim needed the comfort of a responsive pet, then Jim was not happy, no matter how good a face he put on things.

Young though he was, Spock was being reared in the knowledge of his responsibilities as a future ruler of Vulcan. He knew that one day soon he would have to find out what was troubling his Companion. Yet he delayed, unsure of how best to bring the subject up.

The sudden scream brought Spock upright in bed, his hand reaching out to snap on the light. Jim was tossing restlessly beside him. Spock reached over to touch his Companion, and at the touch, the Human boy jerked away, and moved to the very edge of the bed, where he lay, suddenly motionless.

"Jim?" Spock reached over to touch his shoulder once more.

The Human rolled over and looked miserably at Spock. "I'm sorry. Did I disturb you?"

"You were having a bad dream," Spock said simply. "Would you like to tell me about it?"

Jim shivered. "I just dreamed that I'd failed the test next week, and that they were sending me back to Earth." He tried to make it sound unimportant.

"You won't fail," Spock said confidently. "You're the best of all the Outworlders in class, and better than most of the Vulcans, too. It wouldn't surprise me if you turned out to be top of the class."

"I always used to be," Jim admitted. "But here... You've - all the Vulcans - have done work that we would never have been given, not at our age anyway. You've been doing it for ages, and we've only been doing it for a few weeks..."

"Jim, even if you did fail, they wouldn't send you away. You're needed here too much."

"Needed?"

"As my Companion. How much did they tell you about Vulcan customs? Especially Fostering?"

"Nothing much. Just that we were to be Fostered with families where there was a son or daughter who needed a Companion of their own age."

"Yes. Actually, you are a sort of second choice for us. First of all, they try to bond us when we reach our seventh birthday."

"They also discussed Bonding - it had something to do with how our Companions were chosen."

Spock nodded. "For most of us, a wife or husband is selected, and at the age of seven, our minds are bonded - linked together. You do know that Vulcans are touch telepaths?"

Kirk nodded. That was one of the many stories about Vulcans, and while it sounded scary, it also sounded exciting.

"Most of the time, the first choice is suitable, and the bonding is made," Spock continued. "If the bonding fails, the adults look for another suitable partner. Some of those who fail the first time find a wife with the second choice. For the rest of us, it is recognized that what is needed is a Companion of their own sex, male or female.

"We always used to select Companions among our own people. Then, about thirty years ago, a Vulcan stationed on Earth discovered that Humans made suitable Companions, too. His son was just seven, and he was about to bring him back to Vulcan for his bonding, when the boy announced that he had formed a spontaneous bond with the seven-year-old son of one of his father's Human colleagues.

"The two were closely watched for some ten years. The bonding held true. That was when my people decided to institute Questing, not only on Earth but also on several other planets in the Empire where there were humanoid inhabitants with similar mental capacities. So far it seems to be working, and the Companions so chosen have been happy in their new lives. One of the things they watched out for is mental compatibility. Seventy-five to eighty percent is considered the usual; ninety percent is the ideal.

"Why not a hundred?" Jim asked with interest.

"With a hundred percent compatibility, the two minds would mirror each other, think exactly alike," Spock explained. "The ten percent difference is what makes each partner an individual. For example, Jim, when we grow up I will be a ruler. I will need advisers I can trust, and who else should I look to for advice, but my Companion? But you cannot advise me properly if you think exactly as I do. I will need someone who does not mirror my every thought, and who knows me well enough not to be afraid to speak out against my opinions, if necessary. But too much difference is also bad; we would clash, and on things that did not necessarily matter.

"I knew from overhearing my doctor that my mind proved difficult to match. They were beginning to worry that they would be unable to find a Companion for me before I was past the usual age - and, indeed, I am older than most for whom Companions are being sought. Then they found you, Jim. Our minds have an eighty-nine percent compatibility - almost perfect."

"I see... I think."

Spock reached out and touched Jim's shoulder once more. 'Now... is there' anything else worrying you?"

He hesitated. Then, with a rush, "I used to have to share a bed with Sam - my brother. But he didn't like being touched or anything in bed, and... and... Well, it made me nervous about sharing a bed with anyone. Coming here, I had a bunk to myself, and I liked it."

"While I was anxiously awaiting the arrival of my Companion, so that I would not need to sleep alone any longer."

It took a moment for it to sink in. "You... actually want to share your bed with me?"

"Yes. I'm sorry you don't feel the same. I'll try not to disturb you too much. Jim - I can't ask for another bed for you, that would go against all custom, but..."

"Oh, I don't mind... if you don't." Jim looked at the Vulcan boy half-anxiously.

"I have already said, I wanted it." Spock wriggled over slightly and slipped his arm around Jim. "It can become very cold at night, and sharing a bed then is most pleasant - or so I have been told."

Jim lay still for a moment, considering the affectionate arm around him. He had been starved of affection ever since his father died; his mother, never demonstrative, had reserved the few caresses she had to offer for Sam. Even Toby had gone. His schoolmates had never been particularly friendly - his aptitude for games had kept him from being thoroughly disliked, but he had not had any friends, had never participated in the rough-and-tumble games that boys use to mask affection for their friends, satisfying their need for touch in the intimacy of wrestling playfully.

Boys just didn't readily show their feelings, especially to other boys. But Spock, his elder, his Companion, one day to be a ruler here, clearly did not consider it shameful to show his feelings.

Jim suspected there was a dual set of rules in operation, for Spock never showed emotion when they were in adult company. But Humans were like that, too.

With a soft sigh, he relaxed into the older boy's arm, letting Spock pull him close. He slipped his own arm around the Vulcan and, cuddled together, both boys slipped into sleep.

***

When Jim woke in the morning he lay still, half-frightened by the proximity of his Foster brother. Then he remembered the midnight conversation, and knew that things had indeed changed. He was no longer Sam's resented younger brother whose basic needs deprived his older brother of luxuries, but a much wanted Companion who was being trained for his eventual position as chief advisor to his Foster Companion... a position that would surely be one of considerable importance. As Spock opened his eyes, Jim hugged him impulsively... and found the embrace returned.

***

Chapter 3

For Jim Kirk, the years that followed were busy, exciting... and happy. His fears about his ability to keep up with his Vulcan classmates quickly proved unfounded - he was consistently in the top in all subjects, often beating even Spock. For the first time his ability was being stretched, and he revelled in the challenge, absorbing new information with a speed and enthusiasm that surprised and delighted his Vulcan tutors.

Nor did his brains make him something of a loner, as he had been on Earth. Here, all his classmates were highly intelligent, eager students. Of the Humans, Chris Chapel was perhaps most nearly his equal, but all the children were - or had been - outstanding in their schools.

The college he attended was large, catering for all Vulcan's foster children and their Companions. The instructors were mostly Vulcans, but there were several Humans and Andorians, and some other races of the Vulcan Empire were represented, as well.

As in any school, Kirk and Spock found their own circle of friends. They were closest to Chris Chapel and Andy Kidd and their Foster Companions, Sentor and Sodat. Uhura, the African girl who had joined them on the ship, became a close friend, as did her Companion T'Lera; Chekov, the dark-haired Russian, was the comedian of the group, with the amused approval of T'tana, and the Andorian Thelev soon attached himself to them, with his Companion Sepek, who was already known to Spock.

Apart from college, the children met at the Clubs which had been set up to keep each race in touch with its own culture. Although Kirk and Spock naturally attended the Terran club for the most part, the children of all races mixed freely, visiting each others' clubs and learning something of each others' customs.

Somewhat to Kirk's surprise, used as he was to the informality of Earth, they rarely visited each other's homes, and then only by invitation. Spock explained that the Vulcans were a very private people, regarding the home as a sanctuary, and each family tended to live very quietly. Their youth made it necessary for him and Kirk to live with their guardian and regent Sendar, but as soon as Spock reached maturity he would set up his own household.

Once he had grown used to the idea, Kirk was pleased rather than otherwise - he knew that if he and Spock decided to relax at home in their leisure time, they could be sure they would not be interrupted by a casual caller. And although Kirk enjoyed the company of his friends, he was happiest when alone with Spock, who in turn made it clear that he found his greatest pleasure in his Companion's undivided attention.

Each Foster-couple had a personal supervisor. In view of Spock's position, Dr. Sabanat himself was their tutor, while the Regent continued their education at home, training them for the position they would one day fill as rulers of one of Vulcan's largest provinces. Here, Kirk had to begin at the beginning. Each week he had a session alone with Sendar, in which the Regent taught him those things Spock already knew, and monitored the progress of his education.

Life was not all study, however. There were trips - first with Sendar and T'Mara, then as they grew older just himself and Spock - to introduce Kirk to his adopted world and show him something of its wonders. And sometimes - though rarely, for they were conscientious students - Spock would decree a holiday, and they would go off alone to spend the day simply enjoying each other's company.

Gradually, Kirk grew accustomed to his full, interesting and comfortable life. Never allowed to grow soft - the survival training he and Spock were given would have tested an adult Human - they were surrounded by the taken-for-granted comfort only great wealth could provide. Their food and clothes were of the best, as were their toys, and later the computers, aircars and other devices they were given. They were introduced to the finest music and art, and were taught to appreciate all forms of beauty with the same thoroughness with which they were taught mathematics.

This puzzled Kirk a little, and he questioned Dr. Sabanat during one of his counselling sessions.

The Vulcan smiled briefly. "You are as yet a little young to understand fully, James. One of your strongest attributes, one that helps make you the ideal Companion for the L'landir, is a marked natural sensuality. We wish to develop that trait in you to the fullest. You will find that it will give you and Spock great pleasure when you reach sexual maturity. Since you will do so much earlier than he, you will be accustomed to receiving sexual gratification for several years before his pon farr, and the degree of your responsiveness will be an important factor. In that, you will be his teacher."

"I don't quite understand."

'The more pleasure you obtain through the other senses, the more you will be able to obtain from physical intimacy. We teach you the pleasures of sight, of touch, of taste, so that you will instinctively employ them when your mate comes to your body, and you to his. Learn, explore, experiment, James - all experience is valuable."

Kirk wondered a little guiltily if Dr. Sabanat would be angry if he knew that he and Spock had already begun to experiment, examining each other's bodies with an innocent curiosity. Both were still too young for complete sexual arousal, but it was pleasant to cling together in the warmth of their bed, to feel the soft pressure of flesh on naked flesh. They exchanged long, slow kisses, each revelling in the taste, the scent, the touch of the other, and even in their innocence they knew that one day their caresses would bring them so much more. 

Dr. Sabanat, wise in the way of Companion with Companion, recognized the betraying colour in Kirk's face, and smiled.

"Nothing that you do is wrong, James," he said gently, "if you give pleasure to your Companion and he to you. Remember that."

Relieved, Kirk flashed a smile of heart-shaking sweetness. "I will," he promised fervently. "Oh, I will!"

***

It started off as a routine educational trip.

Even for most of the Humans, there was novelty value in a trip to the seaside. Kirk himself, Chapel, Uhura, and one or two of the others had never seen the sea even on their home planet, living as they did several hundred miles from it. Chekov, though he had not seen the ocean, had, a year before coming to Vulcan, been to the shores of the Ural sea. Only the English boy Kyle was familiar with salt water, for he had lived within five miles of the coast... and had several times been overheard openly lamenting Vulcan's comparative lack of open sea.

It was not, after all, a particularly wet planet. Where three-quarters of Earth was ocean, Vulcan was hardly one quarter ocean, and what there was was relatively shallow.

Once the airbus had deposited them, their teachers split them up into groups of six, gave each group an assignment sheet and stood back to supervise the entire class as they carried out the work they had been set.

Each group had the same work to do. They had to find several plants; catch and subsequently release in the same place certain shore-living creatures; test the chemical composition of the water, and finally, take personal notes for a further test when they returned to the school. This test could be about any aspect of the trip.

The first three assignments were easily carried out. They duly collected samples of the leaves or flowers of the various plants, leaving the roots untouched. The shoreline animals were easily found; the chemical test so routine that at first they wondered what they were doing wrong. Kirk's group easily finished first, and they settled down to make their notes, and in addition, explore the area on their own. For this, with the teachers' approval, they broke up into pairs.

Kirk and Spock wandered off along the beach, peering into rock pools, pausing once to give some totally illegal help to one group who were having difficulty deciding which of two similar creatures was the one they had been told to collect, and continued on behind some rocks that hid them from the main party.

Kirk gave a great sigh of contentment. It was almost a holiday, now; they had the satisfaction of knowing their work was completed and they could relax. The sight of the water was tempting. It would be sun-warm. A swim would be pure luxury.

"Let's go for a swim," he suggested.

Spock frowned slightly. Although he could swim, it was not a pastime many Vulcans willingly indulged in. Humans had introduced them to swimming, and now there were even some Vulcans who enjoyed the activity.

Kirk, having learned to swim in a fast-flowing river near his home town, was a strong swimmer. He was slightly out of practise now, because the only water available to them was the small oasis that provided a water supply for their domestic animals.

Spock was perfectly happy swimming in the restricted confines of the oasis, but the thought of entering this uncontrolled stretch of water was decidedly unwelcome. Yet when his Companion desired it so much, how could he refuse?

He was still hesitating, uncertain, when Kirk exclaimed softly, "Spock - look!"

The Human was pointing upwards. Following the line of his arm, Spock gazed in some awe at the huge bird soaring on stiff wings directly overhead. It swooped down, its curved talons slashed at the water, then rose again, carrying a squirming fish. They watched as it glided toward an island about a quarter of a mile from shore, and landed.

"A vargle!" Spock whispered in near reverence. Very rare, stringently protected, it was a creature he had never thought to see.

"It must be nesting on the island!" Kirk said excitedly. "Come on, Spock! We can swim over there easily enough - it can't be more than three times the length of the oasis, and we can swim that easily enough. I'd like to see its nest - and we won't frighten it, either - the books all say that vargles have been protected so long that they aren't afraid of anything any more."

"We shouldn't," Spock said doubtfully. "I'm sure the teachers won't like it."

"They won't know. We can get there and back inside half an hour - we're not meeting for lunch till after that. If we leave our clothes here, they'll be dry to put on, and our hair will dry soon enough in the sun. Come on!"

Still far from happy about it, Spock said, "All right."

They stripped quickly, hiding their clothes behind a rock, and waded into the warm water. Kirk was right; the distance was well within their capability, and they waded onto the island ten minutes later without feeling in the least tired.

The Vargle rose from the dunes not far from them. They went over and were rewarded by the sight of its mate sitting on a nest of dry seaweeds. The sitting bird was not disturbed by their presence. They watched, fascinated, for some minutes, then Spock said, "We should get back."

"I suppose so," Kirk said reluctantly. They returned to the water, and struck out for shore.

About halfway back, Spock gasped and went under water. Kirk could see him sinking, trying simultaneously to rub one leg and to keep on swimming.

Cramp. Cramp? In warm water?

Kirk dived under, swimming as fast as he could to Spock. He caught his Companion's arms, wondering if Spock would struggle, but his Vulcan trusted him and relaxed, allowing Kirk to tow him to the surface and then on towards the shore.

They crawled out and lay panting.

"What is the meaning of this unseemly display?"

Spock, still trying to relax the knotted muscles in his leg, could say nothing. Kirk, startled and very aware of their nudity, looked up at the accusing face of Steffan, one of the older teachers, noticing as he did that they had come ashore nearer to the main party than they had ever intended.

"Where are your clothes?" Steffan continued.

"Round that point," Kirk mumbled.

"And why did you see fit to risk your lives in this childish fashion?"

"We saw a Vargle," Kirk replied. "I... I wanted to see its nest."

Steffan stared at him coldly. "I appreciate that Humans can mostly swim well, James - but did you not stop to consider the risk to your Foster Companion?"

"He's swum further than that at home, sir."

"In an enclosed pool, perhaps. In the open sea there are such things as tides. You were fortunate that it was an incoming tide; the ebbing tide in this area is extremely powerful, and L'landir Spock could not have swum against it, even if you were able to do so. Your guardian must be told of this. It is too serious a misdemeanor for the school to deal with. James, fetch your clothing and that of Spock. You will then both return to the airbus and wait there until the remainder of the party is ready to leave. And while you wait, you can consider. we knew of the presence of a Vargle on the island; a boat has been arranged to take the party there this afternoon. You did not need to risk your lives in order to see it." Without another word, Steffan turned and walked away.

Kirk and Spock looked at each other. Spock refrained from saying "I told you so", but his Companion could see it in his eyes.

"I'm sorry," Kirk muttered, and fled in search of their clothes.

***

Sendar surveyed the two boys with an unforgiving glare.

"I have the school's report on your behaviour," he said coldly. "Have you anything further to say?"

"No, sir," Spock said.

"It was all my fault, sir," Kirk said. "Spock didn't want to go, but I persuaded him."

The steely eyes examined him unforgivingly, then returned to Spock. "Spock, you are the elder and the L'landir. You have lived all your life on Vulcan, subject to Vulcan training. James has the excuse of seven undisciplined years behind him. It was your responsibility to refuse to allow your Companion to persuade you, to use your authority as L'landir to forbid him to take such an unnecessary risk. I must therefore hold you responsible for this foolishness. You will forfeit your recreational time for the next four weeks, and instead write me an essay each day on a different aspect of your duties and responsibilities as L'landir. If I am not satisfied, you will forfeit additional time until I am."

"Yes, sir," Spock muttered.

Stung by the injustice of it, Kirk exclaimed, "But it was my fault, sir!"

Sendar looked coldly at him. "Perhaps the realization that Spock will be punished for failing to prevent your misdemeanors will assist you in remembering to behave responsibly in the future."

It wasn't fair. "Yes, sir." It wasn't fair!

***

Chapter 4

Kirk closed the study door behind him and hurried thankfully upstairs. These weekly counselling sessions alone with the Regent, designed to assess how well Kirk was adapting to life on Vulcan and to identify any problems, were something he had grown to dislike more and more as the months and years passed. He could not quite put his finger on the reason, but he felt uneasy with Sendar. It was not that the Vulcan was harsh, or impossibly demanding. Indeed, the Regent usually declared himself satisfied with the Human's progress, only occasionally indicating the need for a fuller understanding of some aspect of Vulcan life or culture. Still, the fact remained that Kirk dreaded the sessions, and emerged from each restless and ill-tempered, a state of mind only alleviated by a few quiet minutes in Spock's company.

He had confessed his feelings to his Companion, slightly shame-faced since he could give no logical reason for his reaction; and Spock, although puzzled, was always ready to soothe him back to his usual sunny disposition.

This morning, Kirk felt worse than usual, perhaps because his interview had been brought forward two days - he and his classmates were to leave on a field trip, and Sendar had not wanted to postpone the session until he returned, since he himself intended to leave on a visit of inspection to an outlying area of the province before the boys were due to return. He had issued his summons at breakfast, and Kirk had obeyed with outward grace but inward reluctance.

Grateful that ordeal was over for another week, Kirk hurried into the room he shared with Spock, smiling apologetically at his Companion.

"Sorry I'm late, Spock. You know Sendar - he can't be hurried."

"It does not matter, Jim," Spock smiled from the window seat, holding out an inviting hand. "We still have a little time to ourselves before we need leave - I packed for both of us while I was waiting."

Kirk joined his Companion, relaxing into the curve of the welcoming arm, resting his head on Spock's shoulder as the Vulcan smoothed his hair with a slow, comforting touch. At last he tilted his head back to smile up into the anxious eyes.

"Mmm, that's better," he murmured. "You always get rid of my bad moods for me."

Spock smiled. "I do not understand why you have this dislike for Sendar," he confessed, "but I respect your attitude. You hide it well."

Kirk shrugged. "What else can I do? If I only knew... " After a moment he pulled away reluctantly. "I suppose I'd better change. Wonder where they're taking us this time?"

Spock, who was already dressed for travel, walked across to retrieve Kirk's boots from the cupboard. "I learned that while you were with Sendar," he said calmly, but with a tremor of excitement in his voice. "We are to visit Shahail na'Mara."

Kirk paused in the act of pulling down his tunic to gaze at his Companion. "Shahail na'Mara? I thought it no longer existed."

"The city still stands," Spock replied, "but can only be visited with permission from the Council of Elders. Only those of us who have male Companions will go."

"But why?" Kirk asked. "Surely after all this time it doesn't matter."

Spock shrugged. "Tradition," he replied briefly.

Kirk nodded. Shahail na'Mara, the city of the S'kanderai, was a name familiar to him from his history lessons, and although modern Vulcan tended to regard that ancient, long-vanished caste with a mixture of wariness and pride, he had thrilled to the stories of those proud, savage warrior/lovers who had won and held their mates with a fierce joy in their own strength and beauty. Those males who took Companions of their own sex were expected to study their customs closely.

Kirk anticipated hearing more about those days, tales of battles and adventures. Though he had adapted well to Vulcan he was still very much a Human child, and he had to admit that - just sometimes - he found his new world a little... tame. He was young enough still to think of warriors and pirates as more alluring heroes than the sages and philosophers whose lives dominated his teaching.

Seeing his Companion's grin and following his train of thought perfectly, Spock allowed himself a small smile in response. "Yes, I thought that would please you," he said with some satisfaction. "Come - it is time we were going."

***

The visit to Shahail na'Mara delighted Kirk. Far from being in ruins, the ancient city had been carefully preserved by a people who respected their past even when they were not entirely proud of it. The buildings were still habitable, as though the S'kanderai had left only yesterday instead of a thousand years ago. The warriors' love of beauty was reflected in the cool white dwellings, in the carefully tended gardens.

The students were quartered in the guest-house of the city, and for the few days of their visit the boys would live by the ancient rules of the warrior caste, eating when the S'kanderai had done, their food consisting of items prepared in the fashion detailed in the few surviving records. They bathed in an elaborately adapted natural hot spring; studied the displays of reconstructed weapons, dressed in the clothing of the period, walked along the empty streets wondering at the combination of savagery and the love of beauty that had characterized their ancestors. The customs and the code of honor of the S'kanderai were explained and demonstrated to the boys with a half-reverent, half-uneasy account of their lives that made them seem to be removed by more than years from their logical descendants.

Kirk's imagination was caught by this glimpse of a more colorful era. He visualized himself and Spock as free-roaming warrior/lovers, and felt a pang of regret for the passing of a way of life that had an instinctive appeal to his sensual, adventurous nature. Sensing, however, that Spock would not wholly approve of his enthusiasm, he kept his imaginings to himself, only smiling a little as he thought of his Companion in the leather and metal of a War Leader.

There was one building in the city to which the students were not taken. Passing it on one of his walks, Kirk observed that on his map it was identified as 'The House of Retreat'. It stood isolated in its own grounds, well apart from neighboring buildings, and at one time had been surrounded by a high wall, which had largely crumbled away. Enough remained, however, to indicate that there had been only one entrance to the grounds, and this had been guarded by heavy gates.

Surprisingly, the teachers gave no reason for avoiding this building; the children were simply instructed not to enter it. The Vulcans, of course, accepted the prohibition, and most of the Humans followed their lead; but Kirk's devil of curiosity was aroused. Why should this one building be forbidden? He said nothing, but thought about it all day; when they retired that night he could not sleep for thinking about it, and at last decided that he simply must see inside.

His first instinct was to tell Spock, and persuade him to come too, but he quickly abandoned that idea. His Companion might occasionally be tempted into mischief, but would not disobey a direct order. And if he did say anything beforehand, Spock would be punished for not preventing him. No, Kirk decided; he would go alone. Even Sendar couldn't expect Spock to read his mind - yet.

Having decided to go, the most difficult thing would be getting away on his own. The boys were allowed some free time to make their own observations, but as usual they worked in couples. It would not be easy to slip away - and if he did, Spock would soon come looking for him.

The easiest way, Kirk decided, would be to go as soon as dawn broke, before any of the others woke up. It would be light enough to see, and when he returned he could say that he had woken early, felt restless, and rather than disturb his Companion, had decided to go for a walk. If he was caught, they might not realize that he had actually planned to go - he could claim it was a spur-of-the-moment decision Vulcans did not approve of lying, but Kirk was young enough, stubborn enough, not to let that stand in his way.

Just as he'd planned, he rose and dressed shortly before dawn, slipping quietly from the room he shared with Spock just as the first rays of the sun lit the street.

It was not far to the House of Retreat, and Kirk was soon standing in the hall, grateful to be out of sight in case any of the adults woke early. Looking around, he saw an explanatory chart against the wall and crossed over to examine it with interest. There was a map of the layout of the House, with brief notes explaining the purpose of the building. As he read, Kirk broke into an appreciative chuckle.

So this was the deep, dark secret! The House of Retreat had been used as the Place of Mating by newly-bonded warriors after making their vows in the temple.

From the sex education he'd received, Kirk knew that at the time of pon farr Spock would become sexually active, and he would be able to mate with his Companion. His knowledge had been purely theoretical, since none of his group were old enough for practical instruction to be necessary. Kirk had sometimes wondered what it would be like, how it would happen, and given his affinity for the S'kanderai, the interior of the House drew him like a magnet.

Kirk began his explorations. The most outstanding features of the House were the painted walls, still in an excellent state of preservation. Here in the hall the frescos depicted the bonding ceremony between two warriors. The figures were vivid and alive, and Kirk felt instinctively that these men had walked the streets of Shahail na'Mara all these centuries ago.

The corridor leading from the hall showed the bondmates being escorted by their friends to this very dwelling. Kirk smiled as he saw that they walked hand in hand.

At the end of the corridor was a bath - a pool large enough for total immersion. On the wall the bondmates bathed together, happy to be alone at last.

Kirk wondered about the next room, until the frescos showed him the pair sharing a simple meal. They were dressed in light robes. Kirk smiled as he saw one of the warriors holding a goblet of wine for his mate to drink. Savage fighters they might have been, those ancient Vulcans, but the bonds of tenderness uniting Companions had been as powerful then as they were now.

Conscious of passing time, Kirk moved into the next room - and halted, his mind overwhelmed at the knowledge he absorbed. This was the heart of the House, the Place of Mating. A large bed dominated the room, spread with furs as though waiting its rightful occupants.

But the frescos! Nothing in all Kirk's twelve years had prepared him for this. Fascinated, he studied the entwined figures, a little embarrassed, a little amused... and with a curious sense of anticipation.

Suddenly he stopped short, his gaze fixed on one of the painted panels. The figure was so alive it seemed almost to move as he watched it. He knew instinctively that this warrior was in pon farr. Naked and fully aroused, he seemed to be reaching from the wall...

As he stared at the image Kirk's sight blurred. It seemed that a voice was speaking to him from somewhere very far away, but he could not make out what it was saying. The words were repeated again and again, the tone urgent, commanding. He knew it was important that he do as he was told, but how could 

he, when he did not know what the voice wanted? Beads of sweat broke out on his forehead as he strained to listen. He could almost hear...

"Jim!"

The sharp call from nearby brought him spinning round to stare helplessly at Spock, who was standing just inside the room.

"Jim, what are you doing here? You know it is forbidden."

"I..." The words refused to come, and Kirk looked frantically from his Companion to the painted image of the warrior, and back again.

"T'hy'la, are you ill? What is wrong?" His face showing open concern, Spock moved forward, his hands extended. "Has someone harmed you? Jim, speak to me!"

For a fleeting instant Kirk heard the voice clearly, and knew what he had to do. He swung around, facing Spock directly, his hand falling to his belt. Then the moment of understanding was gone and he gazed blankly at his Companion, his eyes empty of recognition. Slowly he began to crumple, but before he could hit the floor Spock's arms closed around him, supporting his unconscious body.

His heart thudding with fear, Spock carried the limp form out of the House, not stopping until he reached the cool shade of a nearby building. Carefully he lowered Kirk to the ground and sighed with relief as the hazel eyes flickered open.

"Spock! What are you doing here?"

"I heard you leave our room and followed you. Jim, what happened?"

"I... don't know. I wanted to explore the House. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get into trouble. It was great - really worth a look. Then... something I saw... or was it something I heard?... I felt scared... "

"Something frightened you? Or someone?" -

"I can't remember. Maybe it wasn't even that. I know I felt a bit odd, but perhaps I just stayed in the sun a bit too long yesterday. I mean, I'm not scared now. I could go right back in there."

"But you will not," Spock said firmly. "Perhaps you should see a Healer?" .

"No, thanks!" Kirk sat up, his voice already stronger. "If I ask to see a Healer, he'll want to know where I was, what I was doing. It'll get back to Sendar and he'll punish us."

"Jim?" Spock sounded puzzled. "It is not like you to shirk a deserved punishment."

"I don't,' Kirk flashed back. "I disobeyed and if I'm punished, that's fair. But I'm tired of him twisting it around so that you get blamed. That's not right. Even if I tell him you didn't know what I was doing, he'll only say you should have known. And then you did come after me without telling anyone I'd gone."

"No one else was awake, and I did not know where you had gone."

"Spock... " Kirk got shakily to his feet, pulling the Vulcan with him. "I think Sendar knows that punishing you makes it worse for me." The hazel eyes held an understanding beyond his years. "Look, I'm fine now. If I promise never to do it again, will you say nothing?"

Spock hesitated. The expression he had seen in Kirk's eyes at the instant he turned still worried him. He could not name it with certainty, but it had chilled him with horror...

No, Spock told himself firmly, he had been mistaken. Hatred and fear in Kirk's eyes... of him? It could not be. Perhaps his Companion had simply felt a little unwell; that, plus his awareness of disobeying an order and the sight of the disturbing paintings had affected him for a moment. He certainly seemed all right now, and since he had learned his lesson there was no point in distressing him further.

A gentle tug at his arm distracted him. "Spock? Don't tell the Regent. Please." The hazel eyes smiled into his, and Spock was lost. He sighed in resignation.

"Very well. I will say nothing."

A quick, impulsive hug was his reward. "Thanks, Spock. Come on- it must be time for breakfast by now. I'm starving."

Shaking his head in amusement at yet another of Kirk's lightning-fast changes of mood, Spock followed his exuberant Companion back to the Guest House.

***

Chapter 5

Kirk was almost sixteen when the familiar, easy affectionate relationship with Spock changed. They tumbled into bed one night, exhausted from a long day's hike through the desert, and fell asleep almost at once, pressed close together in the fashion that had become habitual with them over the years.

On that night, however, Kirk's dreams were disturbing. He woke, gasping, trying to remember what had alarmed him, to find that Spock, too, was awake and was peering down at him anxiously.

"Jim? What is wrong?"

"I... I don't know." Kirk faltered. "I feel strange..."

"Let me look at you." Spock turned up the light and studied his Companion's nude body carefully. Their eyes met. Then Spock took Kirk's hand and guided it to the Human's groin.

Kirk coloured as his fingers rested on firm, hot flesh. Spock pressed him dose. "You remember what we were told - what to do when you reached maturity?"

"Very well," Jim murmured.

Spock slid his fingers under Kirk's to touch the silk-smooth flesh. "It is now my duty to satisfy you. I am pleased, Jim - Sodat boasted that Kidd was ready weeks ago, and I have envied the pleasures they have shared since then."

Kirk shifted, parting his thighs to allow the exploring hand greater freedom. A low moan escaped him as his penis responded to the fondling.

"This is pleasurable for you?" Spock asked.

"Gods, yes! Don't stop - Ah." Kirk arched his hips upwards, pressing himself closer as the Vulcan stroked him firmly. "More, Spock... Harder!" he gasped.

The Vulcan obeyed, and Kirk's inexperienced body responded quickly to the stimulation; he arched, stiffening in climax as his penis throbbed in Spock's hand, covering the Vulcan's fingers with sticky wetness. Drained, Kirk slumped back against the pillows. "I didn't expect it to be like that!" he managed at last.

"What was it like?" Spock asked curiously, releasing the softening flesh with reluctance.

"It was... I can't describe it." Kirk reached up impulsively and hugged his Companion. "I just wish it wasn't going to take so long for you."

"Another three or four years," Spock said regretfully. "However, it is safer so -by the time of my pon farr I will know your body, its needs and responses, and so I will not hurt you."

Kirk shivered suddenly, and Spock looked at him. "Come, we had better shower. You are cold."

"No, I'm fine. But perhaps you're right about that shower - my... my semen does seem to have gotten everywhere, doesn't it?"

"Indeed." Spock ran his fingers lightly over Kirk's thighs, smiling as they trembled in response.

They showered together, as was their custom, but now there was a new awareness of each other as they touched. It seemed to Spock that Kirk's scent, familiar and distinctive, had taken on a new, faintly musky undernote that both excited and troubled him. He found that he, too, was trembling slightly as he led Kirk back to bed and leaned over him.

Kirk smiled shyly and raised his hand to the Vulcan's face, brushing the temples lightly and moving through the silky hair to the back of Spock's head. Spock's warm breath on his mouth was an unexpected and overwhelming pleasure...

Unconsciously he exerted pressure, drawing Spock's head down. "Let's try that again," he murmured.

"With pleasure, but perhaps we should... experiment?"

And Kirk moaned in delighted anguish as Spock's head inclined towards his groin and the warm mouth opened to capture his eager flesh.

***

At their next meeting with Dr. Sabanat, Kirk shyly reported that he had become sexually active.

Pleased, Dr. Sabanat questioned them about the experience. Satisfied with their answers, he went on, "Now that you have reached this stage, I will hand you over to another Healer who is better placed to help you. I refer to my son, Sorel, and his Companion; they are of the First Generation of Quest-Companions.

"You will find that they understand your problems and will answer any questions you may have. Your privacy is assured - your talks with them will be as confidential as those you have had with me. Let me caution you not to let natural reserve prevent you from discussing any difficulties you may have with them. Be assured that they understand, better even than I, for I have not shared with a Companion."

Kirk and Spock exchanged uneasy glances. Neither felt easy at the idea of discussing their intimacy with strangers. Dr. Sabanat had at least been a familiar figure during the years of their childhood and youth. However, the habits of obedience to his guidance were deeply ingrained and Spock inclined his head.

"We will remember, Dr. Sabanat," he said, and Kirk nodded agreement.

***

When they reported for their next session, Dr. Sorel was waiting for them. He was still young, but had the unmistakable air of authority of a fully-mature Vulcan male. Beside him, Spock looked almost coltish.

With Sorel was a blue-eyed Human, whom he introduced as his Bondmate, and who greeted them with a lazy grin.

"I'm Leonard McCoy," he introduced himself in a soft Southern accent all his years on Vulcan had not eradicated.

"I'm James Kirk," he replied.

Sorel bowed in greeting to Spock. "Live long, L'landir," he said formally.

"As my Healer it is fitting that you address me as Spock," the younger man replied, equally formally. "My Companion is James to you both."

For a moment the four stared at one another in silence, then McCoy's lazy laugh echoed.

"We're not going to get anywhere standing around like this," he declared. "Let's sit down and get to know one another." He looked serious for a moment. "This... part of your education is going to be a bit awkward if you don't learn to trust Sorel and me," he said. "We are both Healers, true, but it is natural that you should feel reserved with us. I think it'll be easier this first time if you ask us any questions you wish, and we'll do our best to answer them. Later, as you know us better, you'll feel more at ease with us."

"It is... a great breach of your privacy," Spock murmured hesitantly.

"That's what we're here for. Right, Sorel?"

"Indeed. We know from our own experience that in the next few years there may be things which will trouble you, even cause you to fear. If you can face the Time of Mating fully prepared, it will be much easier for you both."

A sudden sense of panic filled Kirk for a moment, fading as the blue eyes smiled reassuringly at him.

"We do want to help, James," McCoy said. "If it means talking about things we normally wouldn't discuss, well that's how it has to be."

"Dr. Sabanat said you were of the First Generation?" he ventured.

"That's tight." McCoy sat back in his chair. "I was recruited on the very first Quest, and Sorel here was discovered to be my telepathic fit. We all had to learn as we went along, and there were plenty of mistakes made in the early days of the experiment - mistakes that with our guidance you will avoid.

"For example, at first the Companions were not allowed to mix socially, but it was quickly learned that in fact we adjusted more easily if we weren't totally cut off from our own people. In addition, our Vulcans were helped to understand us by seeing us together.

"Remember, James, that the object of this experiment isn't to turn us into second-rate Vulcans; we are needed and valued for our own qualities."

"Indeed," Sorel murmured, earning a teasing glance from his mate.

"Our first responsibility is, and always must be, to our Companions," McCoy continued. "You must never forget that no matter how strong and powerful they may seem in comparison to us, in one area they are totally vulnerable. When it comes to pon farr, James, you will hold Spock's sanity, his very life, in your hands as I hold Sorel's."

"We must place total trust in our mates," Sorel said, addressing Spock. "Had your bond taken with a Vulcan, there would have been no risk, for understanding of pon farr is so instinctive with our people that it is impossible for anyone to permit another to suffer death by denial. Humans, and other offworlders, do not have that inborn understanding, and so they must learn it. Each couple lives together, grows together, so that they will readily turn to each other when the Time comes. James will learn to seek his pleasure and satisfaction in your bed; when you in turn have need of him, he will satisfy you out of love, since the childhood bondlink you would have had with a Vulcan is not there to compel his submission."

Spock stirred. "Why am I forbidden to meld with James until pon farr?" he demanded. "Would it not be easier for us both if he was accustomed to the link?"

"In fact, no. You do have an unconscious, partial link with him, permitting you to sense his nearness, his health, and his emotional well-being, but experience has shown us that a meld, a full linking of thoughts, is not wise for potential bondmates before pon farr, especially with a non-Vulcan. Humans are not telepaths, and it requires considerable effort to establish a link; the increased sensitivity at the Time of Mating will lead your minds together naturally as your bodies join, and will allow the full linking that establishes a permanent bond. To link before then would weaken that bond, which will even so be less... deep than that between two Vulcans."

"The Quest-leader touched his mind," Spock argued, "and he did so again in the assessment. Why was it possible for him, and not for me?"

"You resent what you see as the intimacy?"

Spock nodded, looking a little ashamed, and Sorel continued, "It was the lightest surface touch, to determine only if James could be bonded, and if you were compatible. It was as though..." He hesitated, seeking a comparison, "as though McCoy were to touch him in order to set a broken arm, or to treat some illness. Contrast that with the freedom with which you touch his flesh, the intimacy of the caresses you share."

"I see." Spock looked relieved. "It is as the impersonal touch of the Healer."

 

"McCoy, there's something I want to know." The blue eyes turned to him. Jim hesitated, then continued determinedly. "When Spock and I are mated, it's exclusive, isn't it? For him as well as for me?"

"Yes," McCoy confirmed. "Neither of you will be able to take another mate."

"Indeed. The secrets of your Companion's mind, like those of his body, are for you only to learn and enjoy."

 

"Then... as L'landir...what about his... heirs?"

"Ah, I see. Jealousy." McCoy grinned. "Well, that's a good sign. Don't worry, James - that's how I felt, too. It's very simple and very impersonal. At a suitable time during one of his pon farrs - not the first - a Healer will take a specimen of semen to inseminate a woman who has been chosen to bear his child. You will be with him while it is done. He won't even see the woman until the child is conceived. This will be repeated until he decides his family is complete. The children will, of course, be raised in your household."

"It sounds very... clinical," Kirk said doubtfully.

"Better that than the other way. You'll be bonded by then, remember. Our group... One of the Vulcans entered his third pon farr a few months earlier than the others, and it was decided to try for a child. When he began to... to approach the woman, his mate went wild in reaction to the violation of the bond. His fury and hatred were reflected back to the Vulcan. Healers were supervising the mating, but they weren't quick enough."

"What happened?" Kirk asked tightly.

"He killed her."

Spock's question fell like a stone into the silence. "And the bondmates?"

"They recovered, in time," Sorel answered. "The experiment was not repeated. All future pregnancies were the result of artificial insemination."

"It's the only way. Believe me, I know. But you have a good few years yet before you need consider it," McCoy said reassuringly. "Just remember, though, that any violation of the bond, voluntary or not, will result in that type of insanity. Actually, I've never heard of a willing violation. You'll understand why, James, when you are fully bonded."

Kirk's hazel eyes turned longingly to his Companion. "I wish we didn't have so long to wait," he murmured.

***

Chapter 6

"A visitor for you, James." T'Mara sounded faintly disapproving.

"A visitor?" Kirk said blankly. People just didn't pay casual visits on Vulcan.

"He is in the lounge." She turned back into the kitchen to continue overseeing the preparation of the evening meal.

Kirk glanced at Spock, who raised an expressive eyebrow. "The best way to find out is to go to the lounge."

Kirk grinned. "Come on, then." 

"The visitor is for you, Jim."

"Since when did we have any secrets from each other?" Kirk demanded.

"I know you share everything of mine," Spock admitted, "but I have so much, and you rarely get anything that is personal to you."

"I have you," Kirk said softly. "I don't need anything else."

They exchanged an expressive glance, then Kirk turned and led the way to the lounge.

The young man waiting there was standing gazing out of the window. He turned as the door opened. There was a moment of silence, then the man said quietly, "Hello, Jim."

Startled, Kirk stopped so abruptly in his passage across the room that Spock barely stopped himself from colliding with him. Jim? Nobody, not even Chris Chapel or Andy Kidd who had known him back on Earth ever called him Jim. That was Spock's prerogative.

"Don't you know me? No, I suppose you wouldn't."

Something in the rueful smile stirred a long-quiescent memory. "Sam?"

The grin widened. Sam moved to him, hand outstretched. He gripped it awkwardly, unaccustomed to handshakes.

"It's good to see you, Jim. How are you? You look fit enough..."

"And you, Sam. But... how did you get here?"

"University students with top marks at the end of their first year get Vulcan training for the rest of their course," Sam explained. "It's a pretty new thing - just been started a couple of years. There were twenty Earth students last year. This year there are thirty-four. It's quite an honor."

"Congratulations," Kirk said sincerely. He hesitated, then, "What about - What did Mum think about you coming here too?"

"She's delighted that I got the chance of a Vulcan education too. She told me to... to give you her love, if I could find you."

"Did you have much difficulty?"

"No - you seemed well known."

Kirk grinned. "As Foster Companion to the L'landir of Sas-a-Shar, I suppose I am... Oh." He turned to Spock. "Spock, it's Sam - my brother. Sam, my Foster Companion, Spock."

Spock inclined a grave head. "My Foster Companion's brother is welcome in our home," he said a little stiffly.

"Pleased to meet you," Sam said awkwardly.

"Where are you staying?" Spock asked courteously, knowing that it must be with a Vulcan family. 

"I'm with S'trupek and T'Peron," Sam told him.

"Ah. Sepek and Thelev of Andor," Spock identified the younger generation.

"Yes."

"I can't ask you to stay here," Jim said. "We're too far from the University."

"I know," Sam said ruefully. "But I wanted to make at least one visit - after all, we're practically strangers. If it's all right with you - I'd like the chance to get know my brother."

"Why not, indeed," Spock said. "You are always welcome to visit." He glanced at Kirk. "We are scheduled to attend Sorel's counselling session this afternoon at fourteen hours. I will meet you at the aircar half an hour before."

"You don't need to go," Kirk protested.

Spock half-smiled. "I am sure you and your brother have a lot to discuss without my presence. And I have some work I must do." He looked over at Sam. "I will, I hope, see you another day, Sam Kirk." He half-bowed formally, and walked out.

Sam immediately seemed to relax. "I'm not really at ease around Vulcans yet," he confessed.

"You'll learn," Kirk smiled. "They're great people once you get to know them."

"I'll take your word for it. Though I must admit, they do expect you to work hard all the time. They don't seem to know how to play - but they do treat us as if we're their equals... not just as a conquered and backward race they're trying to civilize."

"The ones they bring here - of all races - are their equals. They judge by mental ability, Sam. It's not our fault that Earth - comparatively speaking - is still in the Bronze Age just entering the Iron Age."

"Not the Stone Age?" Sam asked, a touch of bitterness in his voice.

"No. It's the Tellerites that are in the Stone Age - pre-Stone Age. You won't find many of them on Vulcan, and never as Foster Companions. Oh, there's intelligence there - but they lack the background to make any sort of sense of Vulcan technology."

"Do you understand it?" Yes, there was definitely bitterness there.

"Some of it. As much as most Vulcans, I dare say." The younger Kirk grinned. "No, 'mm not being bigheaded!" he said hastily, with a sudden memory of occasions when Sam had felt he was getting rather big for his boots and knocked him back down to size. "I've been here since I was seven, after all. But I can also remember... back on Earth, how many people understand - might understand - the technology they live in? They don't; they take it for granted. It's the same with most Vulcans. But the Tellerites have no technology. There are other backward races too, but the Tellerites are the most undeveloped."

"Where does Earth fit in?"

"Pretty well at the top of the hierarchy. We'd developed space travel ourselves before the Vulcans came, even though we didn't have a Star Drive. Only we and the Andorians had got that far of all the races in the Vulcan Empire. It's mostly Humans and Andorians you'll see as Foster Companions."

"Hm." Temporarily, at least, Sam dismissed the subject. "Jim - are you happy here?"

"Happy? Yes, of course I am."

"Don't you ever miss Earth?"

Kirk smiled. "Not now. At first... oh, at first I used to think sometimes about climbing trees, snowballing... things like that are impossible here... but after the first year I stopped remembering Earth games. I was... well, having too much fun with Vulcan games."

"But Vulcans don't play games."

"They do, but their games all have a serious purpose."

"Oh. Well, didn't you miss... everyone you used to know?"

Kirk knew what Sam meant; the words Sam was embarrassed to utter. "Sam, don't let's kid ourselves. You and I were never that fond of each other back then, and you were Mum's favorite. If Dad had been alive... If Dad had been alive, I wouldn't have wanted to come to Vulcan, though Spock thinks they would have taken me anyway, persuaded my folks. But I didn't have anyone to be homesick for. Dad was dead and Mum had given Toby away-"

"No, Jim."

"What d'you mean, no?"

"That was what she told you, but Toby was actually dead, killed - he'd been hit by a car. She thought you wouldn't fret so much about losing him if you could think of him as alive and having fun. I know - she made me promise not to tell you the truth. I don't think it matters now, though."

Kirk stared at him. "It matters," he said. "I'd rather have known the truth - it hurt more, thinking she didn't care about how I felt."

"She did care," Sam said quietly. "It wasn't really that she liked me better, you know. You were too clever. Neither Mum nor I could understand you. That was mostly what was wrong."

"You're clever too, Sam, or you wouldn't be on Vulcan now," Kirk pointed out.

"In my own peer group, yes. But you were doing work meant for children much older," Sam pointed out. It was dear that he felt no jealousy of his younger brother's achievement now - whatever he had felt then - but rather a kind of rueful pride.

Kirk grinned a half-embarrassed acknowledgement of the compliment and decided to change the subject.

"Why didn't you let me know you planned to visit?" he asked. "Surely you were advised that it isn't considered good manners here just to appear without warning."

"Yes," Sam admitted. "But... well, I wasn't sure if I contacted you that you'd really want to see me. I thought that if I just turned up it'd be easier for both of us."

Kirk nodded. "Yes, I can appreciate that."

"I... would have enquired about you anyway, Jim, even if Mum hadn't asked me to."

Jim had glad the conversation had come around to that point. "How is she?"

"0lder. She aged quite a bit the first year after you left. It was surprising how many people reacted badly to her letting you go. She said the people who did understand were the only ones who mattered, but it did bother her. She got a lot of help and support from Dr. Boyce, though - you remember him? She married him when his first wife died. That's about five years ago now."

"She's happy?"

"Yes. But she'll be happier once she knows you're getting on well. Jim - this Companion business. It is on the level?"

"On... ? Oh, yes." He had almost forgotten Earth colloquialisms, even though his education had ensured he retained his fluency in grammatical Terran. "We're almost completely equal, though Spock's position... Well, it's like being the younger brother of the king. Spock is the ruler here, though his guardian is acting as his regent till he comes of age, which should be in another two or three years - as soon as he reaches puberty. Once Spock assumes his position, I'll be his chief adviser and second only to him in Sas-a-Shar. The Foster Companions of commoners are their complete equals. We're not being tricked into providing slave labor."

"Do you see much of the other Humans on Vulcan?"

"There are several in our class. We all meet socially at least once a week at our club. Sometimes some of the other races come too, or we go to their club - we have some good friends among the other races, but especially among the Andorians."

"I can see that. I'm finding Thelev easy to talk to."

Kirk glanced at the small wrist chronometer worn by all offworlders, most of whom lacked the Vulcan sense of perfect time. "I'll have to go soon, Sam; we have an appointment this afternoon and I must get ready. You'll come again?"

"Yes, of course - and next time, I'll contact you first. I can't say when my next day off will be. We get them pretty much at random."

Kirk nodded. "I remember you wanted to be a biologist. Is that what you're studying?"

"Yes, but with an emphasis on field research. You know, social structures in animal communities, ecological balances..."

"How will you use your training?"

"Well, initially on Earth, of course. We make a commitment to work on our home planet for five to ten years, depending on our subject, when our training is finished. I mean to spend the time investigating the reclamation of the desert. After that, I don't know yet. Possibly I'll try for a job surveying colonizable planets. It's important that the natural ecology isn't disturbed. According to our lecturers, even Humans with Vulcan training should be able to find a position on that sort of survey. I'm just beginning to discover how much opportunity is open to us - some of us."

"Yes, that could be interesting:' Kirk stood. "Would you consider returning to Vulcan?"

"I might. Why?" Sam also stood.

"Nothing definite. Just something Spock and I were discussing a while ago..." He ushered his brother to the door.

***

Spock returned to the bedroom where he had left his Foster Companion, intending to continue studying the reports Sendar had given him that morning. Once in the room, however, he discovered that he had no inclination to read his guardian's arid prose.

He stared out the window at the garden, which was ablaze with color in this cooler season, but he really didn't see the vivid reds and mauves of the drought-resistant succulents.

A touch on his arm made him jump and glance around hopefully. Had Jim sent his brother away so soon?

He smiled ruefully at the sight of the long-fanged face of his elderly sehlat. It was a long time since either of them had needed the emotional comfort that a sehlat provided. He caressed the greying head gratefully. He had no doubts about his Foster Companion's affection for him, of course... but would Jim discover in himself a fondness for the brother who had so unexpectedly appeared?

Ridiculous. He was not jealous of Jim's friendship with his other Human, Vulcan and Andorian friends.

For the first time, Spock found himself realizing why it had been decided that those found in the Quest should have no contact with their own families until both Companions reached maturity. He'd always thought it was an arbitrary decision, made possibly to avoid upsetting those - like Kidd - who had shown a tendency towards homesickness. Now he knew it was not.

His sanity - his very life - rested on Jim's shoulders. If his Companion's loyalties were, for any reason, divided, he might unwittingly fail his Vulcan's need.

Once the Vulcan reached maturity, the problem no longer arose, for then they would be bonded, their lives indissolubly linked.

But if he must depend on the bondlink to ensure his Companion's continued devotion, how much was their commitment to each other worth? He realized now that what he wanted - and had taken for granted until today - was his Companion's commitment because he loved him, not because he had no choice.

Yet how much choice had they had? They had been assigned together on the basis of mental compatibility; but would they have chosen each other if all the Vulcans, all the Companions, had been thrown together for several days and allowed to choose their partner? Until today he had not considered that idea; would probably have dismissed it. He knew without doubt that he would have chosen Jim... but Jim? At heart, would he have preferred someone else?

No. Jim had mixed freely with the other Humans in their area, but often, on the evenings they visited the Human Club, he had commented that he would rather be staying at home, just the two of them, talking or playing one of the competitive games of skill that both enjoyed. Yet he had shown no reluctance to remain talking to his brother...

The wish to learn about the family he had left behind - or an unrealized affection for the brother with whom, as a child, 'he had not got along with'?

I-Chiya muzzled closer. "I know, old friend, I know," Spock said wryly. "I'm a fool. But oh - I wish Jim would send his brother away, arrange just to meet him at the Club and come to me!"

***

Kirk ran up the stairs knowing he had little enough time to wash and change before they left for Sedar's office. It had been interesting meeting Sam again and learning about his mother, but that life was so far behind him that it seemed unreal.

He went quickly into the bedroom, to find Spock sitting at the window fondling the importunate sehlat.

"Spock?"

The Vulcan jumped. "Jim;' he said. "I didn't realize it was so late." . '

Kirk crossed to him and put his hands on his Foster Companion's shoulders. "What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing."

"Since when did we hide anything from each other? You're worried about something."

Spock smiled ruefully. "Your brother came as something of a surprise to me."

"To me, too. I've invited him again, of course, but I don't think we'll be bothered much by him. He came looking for me out of a sense of duty and because our mother asked him to, but - well - we didn't have much to say to each other." He grinned. "Though he wasn't as bad as I remembered. Were you jealous?"

Spock flushed slightly. "I suppose I was, a little."

Kirk hugged him impulsively. "You don't need to be," he whispered.

The Vulcan responded fiercely, holding his Foster Companion close. "I could help wondering... you were Selected for me. But if you had had a free choice - if we had all simply been given the opportunity to meet and talk and eventually choose our own Companions, would you have chosen me?"

"Yes," Kirk said without hesitation. "Eighty-nine percent compatibility, you told me. How could I possibly want anyone else?" Even as he spoke, seeking to lessen the emotional overtones of their conversation with logical argument as they had been taught, he knew he said the wrong thing. In this emotional atmosphere, only emotional response would answer. "I love you," he said simply.

They were ten minutes late for their appointment with Sorel.

***

For some time now they had been sitting in many of Sendar's official sessions with various of the inhabitants of Sas-a-Star, hearing complaints, assessing evidence in disputes, and generally acting as arbitrators, jury and - sometimes - judge. Occasionally he was simply asked for advice. Eventually Spock, once he took his position as L'landir, would have to do all of this, hence their presence at these meetings.

This one was an unusual case: a mentally handicapped child who had been neither bonded nor provided with a Foster Companion. The attempted bonding had been instantly rejected by the girl, and no Foster Companion could be found with a compatible mind. At the time, nobody - not even the parents - had worried unduly. Few mentally handicapped children were born on Vulcan, and most died before they reached maturity, so the case was virtually without precedent. This one, surviving, was an embarrassment to his parents. He was growing older. It was acknowledged now that something would have to be done about him before he reached maturity. The question was, what?

True, they could simply leave him unbonded and let nature take its course, but he was growing bigger, and was unusually strong for his age. It was becoming increasingly obvious that when he reached maturity he would run amok, as their primitive ancestors had done. There was no precedent to judge by.

The alternative, of keeping him locked up all the time, had been dismissed out of hand as unnecessarily cruel.

But something had to be done, and Sendar was meeting with Sevan and T'Rav, the boy's parents, to decide what...

The adults discussed the situation for some time without reaching any conclusion. Eventually, Sendar turned to the young L'landir and his Companion. "Do you have any comment to make on this subject, Spock?"

Spock shook his head almost glumly. "Nothing," he said.

Kirk knew that as prospective chief advisor to the L'landir, he had every right to make a comment, even if he hadn't been asked directly. He also knew that Sendar had asked only for form's sake, not because he expected the young Human to have an answer when none of the mature Vulcans had found one. However, he did have an idea which might not prove workable, but was at least more than anyone else had come up with.

"Yes, sir," he said. "A Foster Companion might well answer the problem."

"That was considered years ago," Sendar pointed out. "None was compatible."

"That's because you're too used to thinking of Foster Companions as having to be intelligent," Kirk replied. "On Quest, you never really consider those of even average intelligence. In this case, why not consider someone of lower intelligence? It should still be possible to find someone to Foster with Seldan, even at this age."

The adult Vulcans looked at each other.

"It might answer," Sendar said, and Spock threw his Foster Companion a triumphant glance.

The parents were looking at Kirk, too, who was gratified by the respect in their eyes. "It is worth trying," Sevan said gratefully.

"I will contact Dr. Sabanat immediately, to initiate procedure," Sendar decided. "Sevan, he will undoubtedly contact you in the next day or two, especially if a current check on Seldan's mental requirements is needed."

"We will be ready," Sevan said. The parents rose.

T'Rav paused, looked at Kirk. "I thank you. Even if this does not work, you offered a chance my son would not otherwise have had." Her eyes moved to Spock. "You have a wise advisor, my lord." Embarrassed, Kirk looked down in confusion. 

Spock smiled. "Indeed," he said. His voice was warm with approval.

With Sevan and T'Rav gone, Sendar turned to his wards. "I agree," he said. "I did not really expect you to think of anything - and your solution is a satisfactory one."

Pleased, and slightly startled by the praise, Kirk said, "Thank you, sir."

***

When they emerged from the Council Room, they found Sam waiting.

He had visited them two or three times now, always by invitation, and they had forgotten, in discussing the details of Seldan's problems, that he had been invited to visit them that day. The three had now developed... not friendship, exactly, but a reasonably relaxed acquaintanceship. Sam attended the Human club, too. He was finding his feet in the interracial environment Vulcan was carefully developing.

Now Spock made a slight face. "I am afraid I will be unable to remain with you - I have some of Sendar's endless reports to read. He will be questioning me on them tonight."

Kirk grinned, knowing how Spock disliked this necessary part of his education, reading his Guardian's reports on matters attended to while Spock was at school. Sendar never now included the final decision reached as he had done when Spock was younger, but expected Spock to come to a decision based on the information presented. The youthful L'landir conceded that it was necessary; one day he would have to make these decisions in fact. But to his Companion he made no secret of his dislike of Sendar's precise but tedious style of writing. From sitting in on many of these meetings recently, both had learned that although they could be boring, they were rarely as boring as Sendar's prose indicated.

He went off, and Kirk took Sam up to their bedroom. "I've got some preparation I really ought to do, too," he said apologetically. "We meant to do it before you came, but we were called to sit in on a meeting. I won't be long - there are some books there you might find interesting."

Sam wandered over to the bookshelf and glanced through the books. "Are these all yours?" he asked.

"Ours," Kirk replied easily.

"But if they're kept in your room - " 

"My room? It's our room, Sam."

Sam was staring at him. "But.. Jim, there's only one bed. Do you mean that - well - as rich as they are here, they expect you and Spock to share a bed?"

"Well, of course we do. We're Companions."

Sam thought about it for a moment. "Uh - Jim - excuse me for asking, but you're sexually mature... aren't you?"

"Yes."

"What do you do about it? I mean, if you and Spock..."

"Sam, he's my Companion. He satisfies me, of course."

"Of course?! You mean... you mean you're gay? Both of you?"

"Gay?" The word was completely new to Kirk.

"Attracted to other men."

"Not to other men. To each other. Look, when they brought me here, they checked to see who we'd be most compatible with." Jim was slightly irritated at Sam's astonished stare, but reminded himself this was all new to his brother. "It's what they do with all Vulcan children when they're seven," he explained patiently. "They try to link a boy to a girl. Some of the time the link fails, because the person involved needs a partner of the same sex. The doctor who forms the mordal... the - the meeting point of the mental link - there isn't an English word to describe it exactly - melds with both and their minds meet through his intervention. They - "

"Jim, do you mean Vulcan are telepathic?"

"Didn't you know? No, I don't suppose anyone thought it necessary to tell you. It's a very limited ability - apart from doctors, who are specially trained, Vulcans usually meld only with their bondmates. The link is made at seven, and the two grow up together.

"About thirty years ago, they discovered that Vulcan-Offworld Bonding would work. Quests are a way of integrating the various races with Vulcan. We're monitored at the clubs, and if they saw any sign that someone had been mismatched, they'd do something about it, but so far it's never happened - they're too careful to start with."

"So that... even if you'd stayed on Earth, you'd have been gay?"

"Yes, I suppose so. I can't conceive of wanting anyone but Spock. I get on well with most of the Human girls at the Club, but I can't imagine wanting to sleep with any of them."

Sam gave a short, ironic laugh. "Welcome to the club, Jim."

Kirk stared at him, puzzled. "Club?"

"I'm gay, too. That's partly what was wrong when we were kids. I was old enough to be beginning to feel desire - though I didn't really know what I wanted - but I had this feeling that I shouldn't involve you with it."

"I see - I think." Since coming to Vulcan, he had become accustomed to the thought that the person who shared his bed would one day be his sexual partner. He couldn't really understand Sam's perspective.

Kirk changed the subject with Vulcan discretion. "I was meaning to get in touch with you. I have a few free days soon - several examinations I don't have to sit - and Spock suggested that I take you round some of our local beauty spots. You wouldn't normally get the chance to see them - even the handful of rich Humans who come here on holiday, or visiting dignitaries, rarely get the chance to sightsee outside the towns - and some of the places are really worth seeing."

Sam's expression changed to one of pleasure. "You mean it? Jim, that'd be great. Sepek was talking the other day about some stalactite caves. He said it was a pity that I probably wouldn't get the chance to see them because it's a two day trip..."

"Then we'll certainly include them. We can start with the petrified forest, carry on to the L'langdon River waterfall - yes, we do have a river on Vulcan with a pretty spectacular waterfall, and this is the right time of year for it to be at its best, with melting snow from the L'langdon Heights. We can come back by one of the cactus oases of the Sas-a-Shar Desert to the Painted Rocks - the coloring is actually naturally caused by different minerals in the rock, but if you use your imagination, you can see all sorts of pictures on the rock faces. And from there, home. It'll take us probably three days, four at the most, but I'll allow supplies for five or six and arrange for you to get a week off. If you don't need it all, you can go back early and everyone will say how conscientious you are."

Sam chuckled. "In my position, you have to be."

"Of course. But a few days off won't do any harm Even Spock manages to wangle us a day or two off occasionally. I suppose as we get older we'll stop trying to play truant from time to time, and we'll certainly expect Spock's heir to toe the line."

"Spock's heir? But from what you just told me... Well, who will it be?"

Kirk grinned cheerfully. "Oh, a suitable girl with a strong maternal instinct will be selected - with her husband's approval, of course, or else one with a female bondmate who wants a child - and impregnate her with Spock's semen by artificial insemination. The L'landir must have a child to succeed him - or her. But there's plenty of time for that, though we know Sorel is keeping an eye open for someone suitable. They may do the same for me, too."

"Oh." Sam shook his head, obviously feeling out of his depth with these alien customs. He glanced at his wrist chronometer and stood. "I must go - I have a class tonight, but I really did want to see you about... well... " In spite of his brother's easy acceptance of the situation, Sam himself still felt slight embarrassment.

"Yes, of course," Kirk said. "You're sure you understand? And I'll get McCoy to contact you. Look for a message from me in about a fortnight about that trip I mentioned, too."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Kirk waved him off, then went in search of his Foster Companion. He was glad that Spock no longer seemed to feel any jealousy of Sam, but was anxious to rejoin him with no loss of time.

He felt incomplete without his Foster Companion beside him.

***

Sam had admired the Sh'andon Forest, where fossil trees stood or lay as they had done in life. This grave of an ancient woodland overwhelmed by volcanic ash had remained buried for millennium, before erosion had worn the surrounding earth slowly away. Sam took a broken piece of colorful rock as a souvenir. Kirk had smiled indulgently, and agreed that he could keep it. He could testify that it had indeed eroded off, should anyone question his possession of it, as it was illegal to break bits off deliberately.

The caves of Uavan'arhu had impressed Sam tremendously. He had visited caves on Earth in school outings in his senior year while they had been studying geology, and had seen the best that his home planet had to offer; these caves on Vulcan were in many ways far more spectacular; the limestone shapes were far more varied and tinted than anything Earth had to offer. The caves were lit by some subtle form of artificial lighting that Sam couldn't quite see the source of - a gentle lighting designed to bring out the best in the convoluted shapes surrounding them.

He remarked on it as they headed for the Cactus Oasis where they were to spend the night. Kirk laughed. "We don't display our beauty spots to outworlders unless we are very sure they will appreciate what they are seeing. But we do make it possible for our children to see and appreciate beauty in all its forms. I've been here several times. Being the Companion to the L'landir has its definite advantages."

"Jim, what exactly is a L'landir? You did say way back that your position was like being the younger brother of a king..."

"He's the ruler of the province. It's a hereditary position. It's one of the biggest provinces, too - there are only two bigger. He is subject only to the Matriarch of Vulcan, though he does have to show due respect to the L'landirs of the two provinces bigger than his."

"The Matriarch? But..."

"I know, you won't have heard of her. Vulcan has a peculiar social system compared to Earth's. Basically, it's a matriarchy, with each family 'ruled', so to speak, by the oldest woman in it. The grandmother - the mother's mother, as a general rule. In inheritance, the woman inherits before the man. In Spock's case, however, there have been no daughters for the past three generations, and the position has fallen to the man. If his mother had survived when his father was killed, she would have been his regent, but she was killed too, and the position fell to his father's brother. Sendar has a daughter, but she's outside the direct line of descent. She's about the same age as Spock, and it was her they initially tried to bond him to, but their minds rejected each other quite forcibly. It's pretty complicated, and I'm not entirely sure I understand all the ins and outs of it myself."

He glanced at the compass, making sure the automatic pilot was holding steady - there were freak magnetic fields in the desert - and relaxed again. "Anyway, in the Royal Family, the ruler must be a woman. The heir might be the daughter of the Matriarch, or she might be a niece or even a cousin - each Matriarch gives considerable thought to choosing her heir from among her nearest female relatives. They live fairly secluded lives - the L'landir, in effect, rule for them - but they are very powerful. No major decision is taken without the Matriarch's approval."

The aircar suddenly jolted, and Kirk leaned forward, reaching for the controls. He fought the unexpected turbulence, finding it harder than he expected to steady the aircar - he was an excellent pilot, loving travel as he did. Since the time they had been old enough to pilot themselves, Kirk did it all for them, as Spock readily admitted, he was the better of them at it.

He glanced out of the window, seeing the opaqueness blowing from the horizon, and muttered something in Vulcan.

"What...?" Sam asked.

"Sandstorm. They're unusual at this time of year. Don't talk, Sam - I need to concentrate on what I'm doing. Strap yourself in."

The wind was lengthening, and now caught the aircar and threw it sideways. Kirk set his lips and let the air current take the little vehicle while he concentrated on flying into the wind as best he could. They were being blown off course; all he could do was attempt to make the distance involved as little as possible. He considered the terrain around them, and shook his head. If he simply went with the wind, they would be drawn deeper and deeper into the desert until they ran out of fuel. As it was... He peered down, trying to see the ground.

It was impossible. The wind-blown sand below them completely hid the ground.

He glanced once more at the fuel gauge.

The trip he had planned had been one that would use up most of the aircar's fuel capacity, though he had a spare fuel cell that he had meant to insert at the Cactus Oasis. But there was now little power left in the vehicle.

He had hoped that the storm, being unseasonal, would be brief; that they would soon fly out of it. There seemed little chance of that now.

"I'm going to put her down," he said tightly.

"What? But you can't see the ground!"

"I know - but we only have about ten minutes' fuel left. The storm isn't going to pass that quickly. I'd rather land while I still have power. Keep your head down - I expect it'll be rough."

The little aircar dropped lower. Softly at first, then with increasing volume, they heard the steady swishing and patter of grains of sand beginning to hit the sides of the car. Visibility dropped dramatically. Kirk, his attention fixed on the altimeter, could only hope that the ground here wasn't at too different a height from at home since he could see nothing and didn't even know where he was landing. He turned directly to face into the wind, trying to adjust his speed to match that of the wind, to meet the ground at a very low speed. The aircar touched down and for a moment Kirk thought they were safe, then a particularly fierce gust caught the vehicle and threw it sideways. It crashed against a boulder, slid with the gale for a moment, then came to rest jammed against yet another rock. Sand began to blow in through the shattered windscreen.

Sam choked. Kirk straightened himself, unfastened his seat belt, and reached over to pull his brother's loose robe over his head, before wrapping his own robe round his own head. "Sit with your back to the wind as far as you can," he said, his voice muffled by the cloth.

Sam obeyed.

Fortunately, the car had landed side-on to the wind, so that although some sand was blowing in, it was only what had been caught in eddies formed by the rocks among which they had landed. They sat in hot, uncomfortable darkness for what seemed ages; then the pattering of sand against the hull of the aircar lessened, the noise of the wind grew fainter. Kirk unwrapped the shielding cloth and looked round.

"It's past, Sam," he said thankfully. Sam unwrapped his head and looked at his brother.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"To be honest, I don't know. We were about halfway to Altora, then the wind blew us sideways. I angled my course, so we were probably blown off the direct line by about - oh, forty to sixty degrees. I don't know how strong the wind was. But we're stuck here. I don't think it's going to be possible to lift this aircar off from here - quite apart from anything else, that sand will have blown into the engine and probably damaged it. I was stupid - I really should have landed as soon as I realized a storm was blowing up. We probably wouldn't have been able to take off again, but we'd have been in the direct line of flight - we'd be easily spotted by a rescue party. I just hoped that the storm wouldn't last long, that we'd fly out of it, and we'd be able to go on and get back on time." He shrugged. "Well, what's done is done. One thing, this isn't the season for storms, so were not likely to be bothered again before we're rescued."

"Rescued - Jim, they won't start searching until we're late... and they won't know where to look. How long can we survive out here?"

"Quite a while," Kirk assured him.

"But we've hardly any water, or food..."

"Sam, don't worry. We'll manage." He began to climb out of the wreck.

Sam struggled after him, then stared in horror at the hostile land surrounding them. "Manage?" he gasped. "How?"

Kirk looked round thoughtfully. He glanced up at the sun, then turned to the storage compartment of the aircar. "Let's start by getting our tent up."

He selected a site for it in the shadow of a large boulder. "We'll get some sun morning and evening, but we'll be shaded during the heat of the day," he explained. Then he twisted a length of loose metal off the side of the wrecked aircar. Reaching into the luggage compartment again, he pulled out a short-handled spade, which he handed to his brother. "You're about to get a first-hand lesson in desert survival."

Sam looked at the spade, then at Kirk. The younger man moved off towards their tent, surveying the ground. Finally he selected a spot, half shaded again by a rock. "OK, start digging."

They dug with the spade and the piece of metal, and soon had a hollow excavated, about two feet deep and a yard across. "Right," Jim said. "Leave the spade beside the tent, will you, Sam, and get the sheets of plastic out of the car. Line the hollow with the bigger bit of plastic and put a biggish flat- topped stone in the middle."

"Right. But what are you going to do with it?"

"That's our water supply," Jim said cheerfully.

Sam gave him a look that dearly indicated he thought his brother had lost his mind. "Wait and see." Jim moved off, studying the ground carefully.

Puzzled but acquiescent, Sam did as he was told, then, everything ready, followed his brother curiously. Jim was still searching - but for what?

Then the younger Kirk gave a grunt of satisfaction, and dropped to one knee. Using the piece of metal, he dug at the ground, and rose carrying something.

Sam looked at it curiously. "What is it?"

"It's a t'lama," Jim explained. "They grow all over the desert, but most of the plant is completely buried. You have to know what you're looking for to see the bit that does show above the ground. The roots go down deep, and as long as you don't pull up the entire thing, the bit you leave will eventually throw out a new plant. We're taught to leave a bit if we do have to dig one up; it's a survival necessity on Vulcan."

He headed back for their pit. There, he placed the plant carefully on the stone, then nicked the top of the fleshy surface several times. He then carefully spread the second sheet of plastic over the hole, holding it down with a load of sand all round. "About an hour and we'll have water."

"How?"

"Condensation. The t'lama stores water. Once its skin is pierced, though, it loses its store pretty fast. The top plastic will keep the moisture from escaping, and the coolness of the sand below, in the shelter of the stone, will condense it. The heat of the sun beating down will speed up the whole thing. On its own, though, the t'lama is poisonous, which is why it has to be kept above the level where the condensed moisture will reach. That one will give us enough liquid for a day. It won't taste very pleasant," he warned, "but that's a minor inconvenience."

"So you'll have to find a new t'lama every day?"

"Yes. I'll show you what to look for, now that we've got one distilling. Then there are other underground plants that we can use for food."

"How do you know all this?"

"It's routine training," Jim explained. "Even town children, even the rulers, have to be trained in desert survival. Every now and then we're given an exercise in practical survival. We're taken out into the desert, usually with our bondmates or Foster Companions, set down with nothing, and expected to survive three days and nights. We don't know it, of course, but as children we're carefully monitored all the time, and anyone who runs into difficulty is rescued. It's a terrible disgrace to be rescued! By the time we've reached maturity, it's become second nature. Of course, anyone planning to cross the desert carries survival kit. If we didn't have the plastic it'd be harder, but there are ways to improvise even that."

He picked up a handful of very fine dust that filled a crack. "This hardens into a pretty impervious substance when it's wet, so it can be used to line the water hole, and just a bit of ordinary cloth can serve for the top. The tent is a bonus for us - we could have improvised a shelter each night." He grinned. "You're getting a bit of training your course didn't plan to cover. I think I'll suggest that survival is added to it. They probably didn't think of it for the outworld students, because so few of you are likely, in the time you're here, to be near the desert. But the unexpected can happen, as now."

***

"Sendar, Jim is overdue."

"Spock, he is not due to return until tomorrow."

"He told me he'd be back tonight."

"Anything could have happened to delay him an extra day. Perhaps his brother wanted to spend more time at one of the places they visited than James had allowed for when he spoke to you. His brother has four days leave from the university."

"Yes, I know, but he said he only meant to take three of them. They planned to spend the first night at the petrified forest, the second at the Oasis, and be back here tonight in time for Sam to get transport back to ShiKahr."

"Perhaps he took his brother back to ShiKahr first, then."

Spock looked doubtful. "That would not have been courteous."

"Humans are not always noted for their courtesy, Spock."

"So you have told me, but Jim is Vulcan-trained, and Sam, since that first occasion, has learned Vulcan manners and is always most careful to follow our customs. No. I am convinced that they are in trouble."

"Very well," Sendar said reluctantly. "I will contact the monitors and ask them to check if James and his brother were seen at the different points in their route, and if so, when."

Half an hour later, the alarm was raised. James Kirk, Companion to L'landir Spock, and his companion, had left the caves - but had not reached the Oasis. And a sandstorm of unprecedented fury for this time of year had blown across the desert.

***

Several days passed and Sam began to get restless. "Jim, how long are they likely to look for us?"

"Until they find us."

"But aren't they likely to decide after a while that we can't possibly have survived?"

"No."

"Nobody would expect anyone stranded in the desert to last more than a day or two."

"Sam, we're survival trained. They expect us to survive."

"But how can we expect them to give up all those man-hours just to find two Humans who've gotten themselves stuck?"

"For a start, we're members of the Vulcan Empire living on Vulcan. Second, and more important, we're still in Sas-a-Shar. Spock won't let them abandon the search."

"Jim, I know that Spock is still under age. Does he have the authority to demand that?"

"Of course he does. But even if he doesn't, I'm his Companion. Sendar wouldn't allow them to give up."

Sam looked slightly doubtful, but he said no more.

***

"There - to the right!"

The splash of color stood out quite clearly. The search car banked towards it, then saw the signal picked out in stones on the ground.

A small figure emerged from the shelter of the tent and waved. It was joined almost immediately by a second.

"They are both all right," the aircar's pilot said. "Call in with the news."

The navigator thumbed the small radio transmitter. "Search car five - we have them. Both appear uninjured. Landing now."

The pilot took the search car down carefully. A landing area had been cleared of stones at the end of the signal. The ground was rough but not impossible. Truly, the L'landir's Human Companion had learned his lessons well, even handicapped by an untrained Human friend. Two more Vulcans joined the ranks of those who learned that to be an offworlder did not necessarily mean inferior. They had been convinced they were looking for two bodies.

By the time the aircar landed, the small tent had been taken down. The two Humans met their rescuers halfway between the rock that had sheltered their tent and the landing site, carefully carrying all their survival gear.

The search car took them straight home. As Kirk got out, Spock came running. "Jim!"

The Human returned his Foster Companion's unashamed embrace tightly. "Spock, I'm sorry. We were thrown off course by a sandstorm and had to land when we ran out of fuel."

"You're all right?" Spock drew back to examine his Companion, still clutching his arms. "Yes. Sam did well, too."

Spock pulled Kirk close again.

Embarrassed, Sam looked away, to realize that the Vulcans appeared to find nothing unusual in their ruler's behaviour. After a few moments, however, the two separated and Spock turned to Sam.

"You are unharmed?" he asked quietly.

Sam appreciated the genuine concern. "Yes - thanks to Jim. Alone, I wouldn't have lasted the day."

"I want to recommend that offworld students be given survival training," Kirk said.

"I agree." Spock turned to Sam. "There will be no difficulty with the university. They have been informed of the situation."

Sam nodded. "I'm glad to hear that. Were S'trupek and his family... inconvenienced by this?"

"They were pleased to hear that you were safe."

"I ought to go home immediately, if you don't mind. I must be at class tomorrow."

Sendar smiled slightly. "There are many who, after such an experience, would take a day off to recover."

"I've been away longer than I should have been. I must have a lot of work to make up."

"You would never have been given the time off if your work was less that up-to-date," Sendar replied. "I don't think you'll find catching up too difficult."

***

Chapter 8

For some days, Kirk had been feeling restless, and he was not quite sure why. He could settle to nothing. His usually healthy appetite seemed to have deserted him. He even found it an effort to speak pleasantly to T'Mara when she interrupted a conversation he was having with Spock. When he caught himself snapping at the servants for no reason, he realized that something was wrong, and decided that he would mention it to McCoy next time they met.

Spock was aware that his Companion was disturbed, and tried to calm him, but nothing seemed to help, not even his most tender caresses when they lay together at night. Although he enjoyed the lovemaking as much as ever, his orgasms no longer seemed to satisfy Kirk; he lay shaking with exhaustion, but demanding more and more, yet unable to put into words, or even formulate clearly in his own mind exactly what it was that he wanted.

As for Spock, his Companion's restlessness and irritation was affecting him intensely. He strove desperately to satisfy his suddenly insatiable Companion, knowing that he was failing to do so, yet wondering frantically what more he could do.

Both were miserable, and Spock had decided to ask for an early meeting with Sorel and McCoy, when they returned one afternoon from a riding tour of inspection of the family estates with Sendar and T'Mara. As they dismounted, the groom stepped forward to assist Kirk, something he had done a hundred times before. On this occasion, however, he had no sooner touched Kirk than Spock lunged forward, his eyes blazing.

"Take your hands off him! He is not to be touched! He is mine!" His voice was hoarse, he was trembling violently, and as he reached the two men he pulled the groom away, sending the man sprawling to the ground.

Kirk stared, horrified at the sudden change in his Companion, then realization dawned. It was not his agitation that had been disturbing them both for the past few days, but Spock's. The years of waiting were over. His Companion was in pon farr.

Instinct nurtured by training took over, telling him what to do. Kirk would have preferred for them to be alone, but it could not be helped - only he could calm Spock now. He stepped forward, taking the Vulcan into a fierce, protective embrace, pressing himself close so that his Companion could feel the willing, eager response in every line of his body.

"I'm here, Spock," he whispered, smoothing his hands over the Vulcan's back. "I'm here, and it's going to be all right. I won't leave you."

Gradually the tension in Spock relaxed, and he drew a deep, shuddering breath. For a moment he held Kirk in a close embrace, then slowly released him. "I ask forgiveness," he said quietly, reaching down to help the groom to his feet.

"I am unhurt, my lord. All is understood."

"Spock..." Sendar looked concernedly at his ward. "I believe a short period of meditation would be advisable at this time. T'Mara and I will leave the house, taking the servants with us so that you may be alone. It will also give your Companion time to prepare to receive you."

"I will do as you suggest, Sendar." Spock seemed reluctant to take his eyes from Kirk. "You will alert the Healers? I would prefer that Sorel and McCoy are on call."

"I will inform them before I leave," Sendar nodded.

"Thank you." Spock turned away at last, heading for the house. "You are fully prepared?" Sendar asked, looking at Kirk.

"I think so. It'll be all right, Sendar."

"James," T'Mara broke in, "if you will come with me, I will prepare food for you while the servants pack. I think it wiser that you eat now - it may be some time before you have another chance."

"Of course. Thank you." Kirk coloured, then smiled ruefully and followed T'Mara.

Kirk ate in the kitchen while T'Mara arranged for the servants to leave. It was considered wiser - for the first time, at least - for the two Companions to be alone during and immediately after the pon farr. Only Healers would, as a precaution, intrude on them as soon as the Time of Mating had passed.

***

Having finished his meal, Kirk walked out into the hall, where T'Mara was waiting. Sendar appeared at his study door.

"Will you come in for a moment, James?"

Kirk followed his guardian into the room and sat down in response to a gesture of invitation. He'd never thought of the Regent as a nervous man, but the strain in the Vulcan's voice was obvious as he repeated - needlessly - the lessons that had been drummed into Kirk over the years. After a few moments, the Human composed his face into an expression of polite attention, allowing his mind to wander as Sendar emphasized yet again how much depended on Spock surviving this pon farr. He knew it all by heart - had done so for years - and anyway, whatever became of the L'landir of Sas-a-Shar, it was Spock who was waiting for him upstairs, and he could not even imagine failing his beloved Companion.

At last the Vulcan rose to leave, and Kirk sprang thankfully to his feet. With innate courtesy, he escorted the older couple to their aircar, and waited until they lifted off.

As he turned back towards the house he paused for a moment, startled by the gathering shadows in the garden - he had not thought it was so late. Spock would be waiting... Guiltily, he hurried upstairs.

Clean clothes had been laid out in the bathroom for him. He showered, dressed quickly in a soft white tunic, and smoothed his hair. Then, without giving himself time to think, he entered the bedroom.

Spock was lying face-down on the bed, the long-limbed body sprawled gracefully. His eyes were closed, and for a moment Kirk stood looking down at the strong profile, his heart racing in anticipation. Soon now they would be bonded. They had waited so long for this, talked of it, dreamed of it, envying the older Companions who had already known the joys of bonding. They had seen already the happiness it brought, and had hungered for it; now they would know it for themselves.

Smiling, Kirk leaned down and touched his lips to the point of Spock's ear. "I come to serve thy need," he murmured softly. "I await thee, my Chosen."

The Vulcan twisted around to look up at him, smiling in return. "Thee will be truly mine at last. I have longed for thee, my Companion." He extended his hand, palm upwards, and Kirk gripped it tightly for a moment, then released it.

Spock watched him for a moment, then rolled over and stood up, reaching out to grasp Kirk's shoulders.

"How may I please thee?" the Human murmured, stepping back, his hands raised in a gesture of offering.

"Give me thy mind and thy body," he whispered hoarsely, a ritual answer to a ritual question. "Join with me..." He broke off, staring confusedly at his Companion. "Jim...what is wrong?"

Kirk was shrinking back, almost cowering away from him. Terror shone in the hazel eyes, and his lips were drawn back over his teeth in a snarl of revulsion.

"Jim, what...?" Uncertainly, Spock took a step forward, reaching out, but Kirk dodged aside.

"Keep away! Don't touch me!" It was a scream of pure loathing.

Kirk's eyes were glazed, unseeing, as though fixed on some unbearable horror. In that moment when Spock had risen to face him, the scales of blindness had fallen from his eyes as he realized the hideous deception that had been practiced on him and his fellow Companions. Companions? Victims! he thought in despair. Tricked into unthinking docility, lulled into complacent obedience, they had been pampered and prepared for this... this death that reached for him now.

He shuddered, his eyes drawn with reluctant fascination to the swollen organ between Spock's legs. There... engorged and hungry, it stirred in search of his body. It would rip into his virgin flesh, tearing, mutilating... He would bleed to death in slow agony, his flesh torn apart to ease Spock's lust... and the Vulcan would be free to choose a mate of his own race, as had been intended from the beginning...

With a sob of fear he saw Spock reach for him again. Somehow there was a knife in his hand and he struck out blindly, feeling the resistance as it sank home in flesh. Green blood dripped heavily from a long, jagged cut on Spock's forearm, and the Vulcan sank to his knees, his dark eyes clouded with pain and bewilderment.

"Jim....Why?"

But Kirk was not listening. This was his chance. The house was empty; there would be no one to hinder him. He could escape. If he could get to the aircar he could get away before Spock recovered from the surprise and came after him. Perhaps he could reach his friends, warn them...

Turning, he ran from the room, plunging headlong down the staircase and out into the cold night. The aircar - was gone. But there should have been one left... Sendar must have returned for it, cutting off his one chance of escape...

Too confused to think dearly, he stared around, trying to decide what to do. Hide! That was it. Spock would soon be looking for him, but if he was clever he could stay out of sight until the Vulcan became too weak to pursue him; then it would be safe to go back into the house, call one of his Human friends...

But where could he go? He shivered, aware suddenly of his bare feet, of the thin material of his tunic. Vulcan nights were cold - he must find shelter, warmth...

Of course! He ran swiftly across the stable yard, threw open the door of I-Chiya's den, and ducked inside, turning to shoot the bolt into place. Although normally the sehlat slept indoors, the den was here if he wanted it, and tonight he had been shut away in case he sensed the violence of his master's emotions and came to look for them. Kirk sobbed with thankfulness as the bolt shot into place. A bar that would keep in a sehlat would also keep out a Vulcan, and the window was too narrow for anyone to enter. He was safe!

I-Chiya had raised his head at Kirk's entrance and was regarding him with some concern - the Human was dearly upset and required comfort. He shifted his bulk willingly as Kirk sank down beside him, throwing his arms around the massive neck and burying his face in the soft fur. Then, overwhelmed by a mixture of fear and relief, Kirk began to weep with quiet despair.

An unmeasured time later Kirk lifted his head from I-Chiya's flank and sat up. He brushed the wet hair from his eyes and gazed into the darkness as his mind, calmer now, began to consider what he had just done, and to wonder why.

He could scarcely believe what he had been so sure of only a few hours ago - that he would die in Spock's bed, his body savagely torn by the Vulcan's possession of him. What had put such an idea into his head, and so convincingly?

Frowning, he remembered that it was the sight of Spock's erection that had triggered his panic-stricken reaction. The swollen flesh had seemed enormous, as though he had seen it through a distorting window, but he knew there was no danger, that Spock would never hurt him.

And that curious conviction that all the Companions were doomed to die in their Vulcan's first pon farr - that was an obvious lie. Hadn't McCoy survived for years, happy in his bonding? Hadn't Kidd, only days ago, reappeared grinning with barely-concealed satisfaction from the period of seclusion that followed his Companion's first pon farr? Why, then, had he been so convinced that he would die, so certain that in his terror he had struck out blindly, injuring Spock?

The knife! Kirk groped around on the floor, remembering that he had dropped the weapon as he bolted the door. Finding it, he switched on the light and turned the blade over in his hands, examining it closely.

It looked familiar... As a symbol of rank, Vulcan youths and their Companions carried knives, but until both reached maturity they were merely symbolic, blunt-bladed ornaments. This knife looked identical to his own, but it was razor sharp, wickedly pointed.

And... why had he been wearing it at all? He had removed it when he undressed to shower, and try as he might, he could not remember fastening on the belt when he had donned the ritual white tunic. Yet he had done so... and someone had substituted this deadly blade for his own ornamental knife.

No matter. He would find out who and why later. For now there was only one thing that concerned him - what had happened to Spock?

There had been no sound of pursuit, or of a search. Horror filled him as he remembered the warnings of his Teachers - if Spock did not mate at pon farr, he would die.

No! It couldn't happen so quickly... could it? Kirk sprang to his feet. How could he have forgotten the years of friendship, of affection, of trust? The answer was simple. Whatever happened to him, he could not allow Spock to die.

Kirk dropped the dagger, unbolted the door, and walked rapidly back toward the house.

***

Spock was on the bed, his naked body covered by a thin sheet. Kirk was appalled at the ravages a few short hours had wrought. Spock's dark head tossed restlessly on the pillow. The smooth olive-green skin was grey, filmed with sweat. His lips were dry and cracked; his harsh breathing shockingly loud in the silence of the room.

Kirk stood looking down at him. In his mind, shame mingled with his love for this man. His fear had brought Spock this suffering; he had caused pain to the gentle Vulcan who had given him nothing but love and trust since the day they had met. He writhed in shame as he imagined what Spock must have felt as he faced death by denial, realizing that his honoured, much-loved Companion was a coward and worse. There was one test Kirk needed to make before he woke Spock. Reaching out, he pulled the sheet away and hesitantly allowed his eyes to travel down the lean body until his gaze rested on Spock's groin. At the sight of the swollen flesh, apprehension flickered in him, but it was only a dull echo of the unthinking terror that had driven him from the house earlier.

He reminded his earlier eagerness to give himself to Spock. His breathing quickened as he remembered the pleasure the Vulcan's hands and mouth had conjured from his body during the past years. The joys of full belonging were said to be even more wonderful. He longed for those joys now.

He reached out and rested his hand on Spock's cheek. "My Companion, I am here," he said steadily.

The dark eyes flickered open, glazed with fever. "J...Jim?"

"Spock, I'm sorry - so sorry. I'm here now. I...I come to serve."

"No... No, I cannot." Spock turned his head aside. "Leave me, Jim. You are afraid... I will not force you... "

"I know that." Kirk turned Spock's face back towards him. "Sure, I'm a bit nervous, but I'm not... not terrified any more. Spock, something happened to me - something went wrong - but we can work out what later. Right now, you need me - and I want to give to you."

"No..." The whispered denial took every ounce of courage Spock possessed.

"Do you want me to live knowing I've killed you?" Kirk demanded. He saw the dark eyes widen with shock and continued ruthlessly. "Spock, if you die now it'll be my fault - and you will die unless you take me. Do you think I can live with that? Do you think I'd want to? Whatever happens, let's be together, Spock... you and I... as it was meant to be... as we've planned for so long."

He sensed the Vulcan's weakening resolution and pressed home his advantage. Leaning down, he covered Spock's mouth with his own, allowing his tongue to trace the closed lips in a familiar caress that both enjoyed.

To Spock's heightened senses, the kiss was irresistible. The moist coolness of Kirk's tongue insinuating itself between his lips, the grip of gentle, insistent hands, the rich, seductive scent of aroused Human flesh overwhelmed him, annihilating any possibility of resistance.

Kirk drew back in triumph. "You'll take me?"

"I... cannot resist you, Jim."

"Why should you, my Companion? I am yours for the taking - and you will be mine." As he spoke, Kirk slipped off the tunic and stood watching as Spock's eyes widened in appreciation.

"Truly, you are beautiful," the Vulcan whispered.

Then, as Spock reached for him, an expression of despair settled on the drawn face, and the Vulcan slumped back on the pillows.

"Spock! What is it? What's wrong?" Kirk leaned down, taking Spock by the shoulders and shaking him gently, horrified to feel the Vulcan's body limp under his hands.

"Too late," Spock gasped. "I cannot... the weakness claims me... Jim, it was not your fault... "

"Be damned to that!" Kirk snapped. "I'm not going to lose you now." His eyes narrowed in concentration and his voice dropped to a low, caressing tone. "You told me once that I was beautiful enough to arouse the dead - well, you're not dead, my L'landir, and I don't plan on letting you die."

He knelt on the bed, taking the engorged penis in his hand, feeling its throbbing heat as he stroked it gently. At least he knew what to do, but he wished now that he had been permitted to take Spock. Possession was forbidden until pon farr, for only then was the Vulcan male considered fully mature. In normal circumstances it was not an unreasonable restriction, but now some practical experience would have been useful.

A tube of cream lay on the bedside table, placed there in readiness. He poured a generous measure and smoothed the cool, silky stuff over Spock's straining organ. About to discard it, he filled his hand again, reaching round awkwardly to spread between his buttocks.

At last he was ready, and taking a deep breath, he lifted Spock up, pushing the pillows behind him so that the Vulcan was fully supported, with his long legs stretched out before him. Kirk straddled Spock's thighs, clinging to the Vulcan's shoulders for support as he worked himself into position and could feel the blunt head of the swollen penis nudging at his rectum. Releasing one hand, he grabbed the throbbing shaft and guided it into his body as he sank himself down until the hard bulk filled him completely.

For a moment, sick and dizzy with pain, Kirk rested. He had been so determined not to flinch from this that he had allowed his own weight to pull him down too abruptly.

Slowly the pain faded to a manageable level, and Kirk peered anxiously into Spock's face. The Vulcan's lips were drawn back over his teeth in a grimace of mingled agony and ecstasy. Kirk knew he dared lose no time in bringing him to climax. He began to move, his muscles milking the swollen organ. In Spock's state of arousal it did not require much, and Kirk felt the warning throb of ejaculation within moments. He bore down hard, tightening his muscles, and the sticky wet heat flooded his body.

Spock gave a low groan and the tense body relaxed. Kirk lifted himself away, then, too weak to move, collapsed face downwards on the bed beside him. He buried his face in the pillow to hide the scalding tears that crept from his eyes, tears of pain and bitter disappointment.

They had anticipated this for so long, had been told so often how marvellous it would be when he belonged fully, mentally and physically, to his Companion. Now he felt cheated, betrayed. Something had robbed him of his reward, had turned the wonder he had longed for into this bitter travesty. But... Spock would live...

A gentle hand touched his hair, his shoulder, and he turned, clinging fiercely to Spock, burying himself in the comforting warmth of the powerful arms. Fingers brushed his cheeks, wiping away the tears.

"You almost died," Kirk whispered. "My fault... mine..."

"No," Spock murmured, touching his lips to the damp face. "You are here, and I live. Jim, something has robbed us of what should have been, but... My Companion, I love you."

Kirk looked up hesitantly. "Let's... try again... please?" he asked.

The firm lips curved in a smile. "We have no choice. You forget how intense pon farr is, especially the first time. I fear you will have little rest, Jim."

Kirk's eyes sparkled. "Who wants to rest? It'd be a waste of... "

His words died into silence as warm lips took his mouth in a slow, tender kiss, a kiss that grew deeper, more passionate as the fires built again in Spock's blood. In response, Kirk's own long-frustrated hunger for his mate flared high, and he drew Spock down into his arms, holding him tightly.

"Bond us," he whispered after a moment, guiding Spock's hand to his face.

"It may be too late..."

"Try," Kirk pleaded. "We've got to try... We waited so long..."

Tentatively, Spock reached out with his mind, approaching Kirk carefully. There was a brief moment of pleasure as their thoughts touched, then a sudden shock of rejection as a block rose in the Human's mind, separating them with cold finality, severing the link even as it formed.

Kirk's eyes widened in shock. "What happened? I felt your touch for an instant, then you were gone... "

"There is a barrier," Spock said slowly. "It is so strong that it must have been artificially imposed. Jim, your mind has been entered and controlled."

"No!" It was a wail of despair, of frantic denial. "You were to be the one, Spock... only you... "

"Nevertheless, it has happened. Try to remember, Jim. Has anyone ever attempted to meld with you?"

Kirk frowned in concentration. "No... No, I'm positive. There were the tests when I was first Chosen, of course, but that's all." It was forbidden for anyone but the bondmate to touch the mind of a Companion.

"When I find out who violated you..." Spock broke off, seeing the unhappiness in the golden eyes. "It will be all right, Jim, I promise you."

"This block - can you break it?"

"Perhaps, but I prefer not to try. It is a task for a Healer. I will summon Sorel in the morning."

"Spock, I'm scared." Kirk clung tightly to the Vulcan. "Does this mean we can't be bonded?"

"No! Never think that, even for a moment!" Spock gripped Kirk's arms, drawing the Human even closer. "Sorel will... he must... remove the block..."

"But we'll have to wait until your next pon farr, won't we?"

"We haven't lost everything, Jim." Spock was trying to reassure himself as much as his mate. "Perhaps we can meld sometimes... And now that I am physically mature, we can be lovers."

"Yes, there is that." Kirk sounded slightly more cheerful. "Speaking of which, my Vulcan, I thought you were in need?"

The shock of discovering the block in Kirk's mind had killed Spock's erection, but he was suddenly aware of his own body again, of the blood that pulsed heavily in his groin. He growled softly, leaning down to his mate's slightly open mouth, tasting the cool, delicious kisses that set every nerve shivering.

"Love me," Kirk begged. "Love me... love me... "

***

In the morning, Kirk was woken by soft kisses pressed insistently on his eyelids, his throat, his mouth. He smiled sleepily and reached up to encircle the Vulcan's neck with his arms.

"Hold still," he murmured. "How can I kiss you properly when you keep moving about?"

Spock chuckled and responded to Kirk's kiss before reluctantly pulling away. "It seems almost a pity to wake you, but Sorel and McCoy will be here in an hour."

Kirk sat up, running his fingers through his hair. "Are you sure you can manage?" Pon farr usually lasted for several days, during which the Vulcan remained totally secluded with his mate.

"If you remain close to me. I think a Healer should see you as quickly as possible. This mental block worries me. I wish to be assured that you have come to no harm."

"It worries me, too." Kirk swung his legs off the bed and stood up. "It's keeping us apart and I don't like that. Just let me shower and dress. I won't be long."

Kirk was not surprised, however, when the Vulcan followed him into the bathroom and stood leaning against the wall watching as he showered. He left as Kirk was towelling himself dry, and returned a few minutes later holding a clean tunic.

Kirk regarded it with raised eyebrows. "Is this all?" he asked, a smile curving his lips.

"Please?" Spock whispered. "It would excite me to know that beneath the tunic you are naked, ready for me."

Laughing, Kirk pulled the tunic over his head and fastened the belt. He reached up to touch his lips to the Vulcan's mouth. "You don't mind if I wear sandals at least?" he grinned. "Come on. I'm hungry. We can eat while we're waiting for Sorel."

"I am not hungry - for food," Spock confessed. "But there is no reason why you should not eat"

They made their way down to the kitchen.

***

Kirk had just finished eating when Sorel and McCoy arrived. The Vulcan Healer greeted them, looking somewhat flustered.

"Forgive me, L'landir. I did not expect your summons... that is, not so soon..."

"We expected you to be busy for a few days yet," McCoy broke in helpfully. "Is something wrong?" He spoke lightly, but the blue eyes were sharp with concentration.

"Yes," Spock answered bluntly. "When I entered pon farr, all began well. Jim came to me, speaking the ritual words, but when I attempted to embrace him, he recoiled from me, defending himself so determinedly he injured me with his knife."

'That is... It's impossible!" Sorel stammered, and McCoy reached out to touch his bondmate's arm reassuringly. "A Companion has never refused to... to serve..."

"I did." Kirk's voice was bitter with self-loathing. "I don't know what went wrong - I'd been looking forward to it - but I was suddenly convinced that Spock was going to kill me, that this was all some hideous trap. I... I wanted to kill him. Something in my mind was screaming at me to do it. Thank the gods I managed to run instead. I hid in I-Chiya's den, terrified he would find me. After a time the blind panic faded and I could think again. I knew what I had done, but not why I had done it. I went back to Spock. Mercifully, I was in time..."

As Kirk's voice faded, McCoy looked anxiously at Sorel. The Vulcan was making a valiant effort to pull himself together, but he was still dearly shocked at the realization that anything could make a Companion desert his mate in his time of need. To give him time to recover, McCoy asked what seemed to him the most important question.

"James, do you have any idea why you reacted like that?"

"No - but I do know one thing. It was deliberately caused."

"What do you mean?"

"Spock told you I attacked him with a knife. That's true, and I suppose it is just possible that for some reason I fastened it on my belt again, but it doesn't explain this," Kirk drew the knife, which Spock had retrieved from I-Chiya's den, and handed it over for inspection. "It looks exactly like mine at first glance, but it's a weapon, not an ornament. I didn't make the switch. Someone, somehow, planted this on me - someone who knew I'd use it."

Panic flared suddenly in the hazel eyes. "McCoy, you've got to help me! Right now I'm all right - but if I could be made to do that once, next time we might not be so lucky."

"Easy now." McCoy's voice was soft, reassuring. "We'll work this out for you. Sorel, what do you make of it?"

"It sounds impossible." The Vulcan had himself under control again. "But that a Companion, especially one as sensitive as you, James, should abandon his mate to death by denial... that, too, is impossible. Is there anything further you can tell us?"

"Yes - and it confirms my bondmate's conviction that this was the work of another." Spock's eyes were smoldering with anger. "When James came to me, I could sense the fear that lingered in him, but he was willing to serve. I was... close to death... and he had to... to do everything for me. When the danger was over, we attempted to bond - and failed."

"If your need had been sated, that was only to be expected," Sorel said gently. "Next time..."

"No! You don't understand!" In his agitation, Spock reached blindly for Kirk, who took his outstretched hand and gripped it tightly.

"Relax, Spock," he murmured, slipping his free arm around the Vulcan's shoulders and drawing him close. "I'm here, I'm with you. Just tell Sorel how it was."

For a moment Spock allowed his head to rest on the Human's shoulder, then he straightened, but without letting go of Kirk's hand.

"It was in my mind that it was too late, that the bond might not establish," he continued agitatedly, "but we both wished to try, and at least we would be able to meld. I hungered for the touch of his mind as much as for the embrace of his flesh. One glimpse I had - and then an impenetrable barrier in his mind denied me further contact."

"What? That's impossible!" McCoy and Sorel exclaimed together.

"Indeed. And yet it happened. Why?"

"James, can you confirm this?"

"Yes, Sorel. We made contact, then something in my mind forced him out. I tried to hold on, but I couldn't. The link was severed. It hurt..."

"I have never heard of such a thing." Sorel concentrated for a moment, then looked warily at Spock. "There is only one way to test this. I must link with you both. Will you permit?"

"I... I know that I must."

"James?"

Kirk nodded, then watched anxiously as Sorel rose and placed his fingers on Spock's upturned face.

For a moment there was silence as the two Vulcans exchanged mental contact, then the Healer drew back. "Your mind is as it should be, Spock. The answer must lie with James. Do I have your permission to touch him?"

"You may."

"McCoy?"

"Go ahead, Sorel."

Kirk closed his eyes as the warm fingers touched his face lightly. He was conscious that a mind brushed his, but he could sense nothing of the other man's thoughts. The hand left his face, and he opened his eyes. Sorel was looking at him with concern.

"Well?" Spock's tone was sharp.

"It is true. There is a barrier there, an artificial block imposed by a strong telepath."

"Can you break it?"

"I believe so. However, Spock, I think it best that you should be in my mind when I do so. We do not know what lies behind that barrier, and you should experience it for yourself at the moment it is breached."

"Wait!" Kirk held up his hand, halting the two Vulcans as they approached. "You said you don't know what you'll find... Could it harm Spock?"

"It is possible." Sorel bit his lip indecisively. "And yet, I think he should be there. It is well that you thought of it, James. I can protect him, if necessary."

"Okay." Kirk leaned back in his chair, his eyes fixed on Spock's. "Get on with it."

Two hands brushed his face this time. Sorel's, the firm impersonal touch of the Healer, Spock's the soft, delicate caress of a lover. The three minds moved into position, Kirk and Spock straining to reach each other, while the cool stability of Sorel's mind formed the mordal, simultaneously a bridge and a barrier, allowing them to see each other's mind without direct contact.

The barrier was there, solid and seemingly impenetrable. Sorel studied it for a moment, then his mind reached out with a surge of nameless power, and the structure crumpled like sand, revealing what lay beyond...

The study at Sas-a-Shar. In a chair a Human boy, seven years old, beautiful and vulnerable, His eyes were closed. Beside him, the Regent spoke directly to the impressionable mind.

"It is a trick. You will not survive pon farr. His lust will kill you. You must defend yourself. Kill him, if you can - a way will open for you. Forget... You will forget until the time comes. You are safe until pon farr. Forget until then. You will know the time to strike - there will be a warning, a reminder. You will trust me. Sleep, Child - and forget."

The boy was twelve, grown strong and healthy, his body disciplined by Vulcan training. With pride he bore the dagger that symbolized the end of childhood. The dark face of the Regent leaned close.

"The years turn, and your death moves closer. He will kill you. Hide your knowledge, bury it deep, forget. Forget until the time comes. The knife is your key to freedom. Keep it always with you. He must die that you may live. You will be the one to free your people from this evil. Think of your friends - remember them. Their lives, too, are forfeit. You will be safe, but you must be strong, you must kill. Trust me, hear me. I will guide you. Be strong, and live. Sleep now, and forget. Forget until it is time to act."

At sixteen, the youth was beautiful beyond telling. A new sensuality curved the firm lips, and to look upon him was to know hunger. Even the Regent paused for a moment, his grim purpose set aside briefly in the enjoyment of such beauty. Only for an instant, however, then the low, insidious mind-whisper spoke again.

"The danger is closer now. Your arousal feeds his lust, and may lead him to early maturity. Listen well, remember, and obey. When he enters pon farr you will go to him willingly, as you now wish to do. All will proceed as it should until you first see his erection. Then you will remember my warnings and commands. You will remember that you will not leave his bed alive. Kill him if you can - if you cannot, you must escape him. He must die, either by your knife, or by denial. He must die, or you will - and your friends in their turn. Human flesh cannot endure Vulcan lust. Remember. Remember and live. Let this warning lie hidden in your mind until the time comes. Sleep, and forget. Sleep, and forget."

The desk calendar proclaimed the date just twenty-four hours ago. Every line of the youth's body radiated tension, his tranced face was rapt in concentration. Slowly he drew the symbolic knife from his belt, receiving in exchange its twin. Sunlight glinted off the sharp-edged blade. He took it eagerly, an expression of relief crossing his face as he sheathed it. The Regent leaned forward, his face intent.

"The monster claims you. It must be tonight. When you go to his room, you will take the knife. He will not suspect you. The sight of his arousal will be your signal to act. Kill him, and all will be well. If you cannot, make your escape as best you may. An aircar will be waiting. Head into the desert, to the oasis of Tasan. I will be waiting to help you to safety and freedom. You must do this, as I have planned for so many years. He must not touch you. If he does, you will die. Tell me that you understand and will obey."

"I understand. I will obey." The words came slowly, as though he had been drugged.

"Then all is well. The monster will die of his own lust, and you will live. Go to him, take your vengeance for the years of betrayal. Go to him - and kill him! Kill him! Kill him!"

Slowly, carefully, Sorel dissolved the mordal, allowing the three minds to slip apart. "Now you know all," the Healer said quietly before turning to touch McCoy's hand.

The Human, who had been present in the mordal through his link with Sorel, gripped him tightly, offering reassurance, aware of what it meant to a Vulcan to know that a mating had been disrupted.

Kirk buried his face in his hands and was shaking violently. Spock sat staring blindly into space, his expression one of horrified realization. His voice, when he spoke at last, was hoarse with grief and fury.

"My Regent? He did this... to tamper with my Companion? He has entered where I was denied, ravished the mind that was to come virgin to me... He has dishonoured my mate..."

At each word Kirk flinched as though at a physical blow, shrinking deeper into his chair. Seeing that, Sorel spoke sharply.

"Spock, control yourself. Look to your mate - would you lose him?"

Puzzled, Spock turned to Kirk as the Human looked up. He stared straight ahead, unable or unwilling to meet the Vulcan's eyes, and his voice held an awful calmness that horrified the Vulcan as he made out the quiet words.

"Yes, of course. I have been... dishonoured, and you are bound to me. You cannot wish..." His voice broke, but after a moment he continued. "I see it now. I must set you free... to find another. You must have a mate who is worthy of you, and I... am not."

The blank eyes came to rest on Spock's face, softening into an expression of sheer love. "My dear one," he whispered tenderly, "remember that I loved you, more than..."

Vulcan reflexes were much faster than Human. Even as Kirk reached for the knife Sorel had laid down, Spock knocked it away, snatching the Human into his arms.

"No!" he groaned. "I forbid it! I will not lose you!"

"But Spock..." Kirk's voice was muffled against the Vulcan's shoulder. "You are the L'landir of Sas-a-Shar. Your mate must be... untouched, in all ways. Tradition..."

"Damn Tradition!" Spock snarled. "If I cannot keep you, I will not remain as L'landir. No... " His arms tightened as Kirk made a move of protest. "The decision is mine, t'hy'la, and I have made it."

Slowly Kirk relaxed, his arms sliding up to encircle Spock's neck as he clung to his lover. He felt that he should argue, persuade the Vulcan to reconsider. Perhaps later he would find the strength - for the moment he could not resist the luxury of revelling in the depths of Spock's love.

Sorel rose and came over to stand looking down compassionately at the two entwined figures as, heedless of an audience, Spock touched Kirk's face with his lips, soft light kisses that caressed as they soothed and comforted.

"You must both listen to me," the Healer said. "James is in no way an unfit mate. Sendar did not violate him."

Kirk stirred in Spock's arms and looked up, smiling wanly. "Don't try to make it easier for me, Sorel. I know he must have controlled my thoughts to make me obey him."

"He did not, on my honour as a Healer," Sorel said firmly. "You forget, I am experienced in the mind touch. I know from the mordal exactly what Sendar did."

"Explain, then." Spock turned to look at the Healer, still keeping his arm possessively around Kirk.

"It was the Regent's intention that James kill you, or that you die from denial. Either way, James would be blamed. A telepathic questioning would reveal that his mind had been tampered with, and only a Vulcan could be responsible. Since only Sendar had a motive for your death, suspicion would immediately fall on him. It is impossible to remove the evidence of mind-rape. It would have been safer if he could have killed James, too, but he dared not risk lingering near the house. He had to allow him to be taken by the Lawguard."

"How did he do it then?" Spock asked.

"By simple hypnotism, though used with great skill. You observed in the mordal that James was always in a trance. Each week, on the pretext of assessing his progress, Sendar would place him in a trance and give him certain suggestions and commands. In his waking state James had no memory of that conditioning, but a trigger - the sight of your arousal - would impel him to action as he had been ordered. After your death, a simple phrase -'Take the traitor to the Matriarch for judgement' - would wipe all trace of the conditioning from his mind the moment he heard it spoken. The Lawguard would find no trace of mental tampering, no reason for his actions - even James himself would not know why he had acted so. The 'block' you encountered was the barrier Sendar had placed in James' mind so that he would have no memory, when awake, of his conditioning. Being inexperienced at the meld, you could not detect the difference. Indeed, the man was cunning."

"You are certain of this? His mind is untouched?"

"Meld with him now. See for yourself."

Supporting Kirk in the curve of one arm, Spock reached for the meld points, his fingers pressing in tenderly as though he sought physical contact with the mind of his mate. Wordlessly, he called - and was answered. Shyly, hesitantly, Kirk reached out, then suddenly withdrew, shivering.

Fear?

Not of you - of what you might find. If Sorel was wrong...

Then we will accept it, and each other. Remember, I love you, my Companion.

Then - take what is yours.

Give me your thoughts, beloved - and share mine.

Their minds moved together, no barrier denying them now. Despite his uncertainty and apprehension Kirk was willing, and Spock caught the fleeting though. At least we have this.

It was a spring of cool water after a hard day's riding; the juices of Kaferian apples trickling down a parched throat; a fire of glowing zaler logs on a frosty night. It was shelter to the homeless, food to the starving, a lamp in the darkness.

They clung, feeding and being fed, only now aware of what they had been waiting for all these years. Almost drunk with the wonder of such closeness they laughed and cried, unable to contain such joy, each knowing only that the other's ecstasy matched his own and fed it, fuel to fire.

And... Sorel had spoken the truth. Kirk's mind was untouched.

Reluctantly, Spock allowed his fingers to slip from Kirk's face, gently breaking the meld as he felt them both weaken from too much joy. For a long time they simply gazed at each other, then Spock became aware that Sorel was trying to attract his attention.

"Yes, Sorel?" he murmured, without taking his eyes from Kirk's face.

"L'landir, what of Sendar?"

"Sendar?" Spock's face darkened. "Yes. I must act."

Releasing Kirk, he slowly rose and walked over to the com unit, hesitating before keying in a code he had never before had to use.

The screen flickered and settled into the image of a man in the uniform of the Lawguards. "How may I serve?"

"The L'landir of Sas-a-Shar requests his right of speech with the Matriarch."

"A moment, my Lord."

The screen flickered again. When it cleared, a woman looked at them. It was impossible to estimate her age, but her bearing was regal, and her eyes held more wisdom than Kirk had ever seen.

"Greetings to thee, Spock. What is thy purpose?"

Spock inclined his head respectfully. "Justice, My Lady."

"Thee may speak."

"I demand the arrest of my former Regent, Sendar."

"On what charge?"

"That he sought my life, and abused the mind of my Companion."

"Grave accusations, Spock. Do any bear witness?"

"I do, my Lady." Sorel stepped before the screen, his head bowed respectfully.

"Healer Sorel. I am satisfied. Thy request is granted, Spock."

The screen darkened, and Kirk stared blankly. "Is that all?"

"All that's necessary," McCoy said. "The Matriarch herself will question Sendar - telepathically. There's no deceiving her."

"I see. What will happen to Sendar?"

Spock shrugged. "That is for the Matriarch to decide." He returned to sit beside Kirk, drawing him dose. "For myself, I do not wish to know. I do not wish to see or think of him again."

"Mmmm," Kirk settled closer. "I agree."

McCoy reached out and touched Sorel's arm. "Come on - time we were going." Sorel surveyed the pair on the couch. "Of course. L'landir, if that is all... "

Spock rose. "Will you not still call me Spock, my friends? I owe you both much more than I can ever repay, but - later - I hope to try. May I ask one more service of you, Sorel?"

"Command me."

"Before you leave, contact my servants and bid them return. There are some adjustments I wish to make in my Household." He turned, extending his hand to Kirk. "Come, Jim. Please excuse us, my friends." Kirk took the outstretched hand and rose. He smiled shyly at McCoy and Sorel, then accompanied Spock from the room. As they walked, he leaned closer to his mate.

McCoy watched them go. "I think they'll be all right," he said thoughtfully. "Pity about their bonding, though. Sendar deserves death for this."

"Indeed," Sorel agreed.

***

They spent the evening quietly, sitting with the old sehlat between them.

They had discussed Jim's childhood experience at the House of the Retreat of the S'kanderai, realizing now just what Jim's terror then had signified.

"If we'd only taken some action then," Jim said bitterly, "none of this would have happened."

"We are both alive and well," Spock reminded him.

They lapsed into silence, watching the fire.

"I feel sorry for T'Mara," Kirk said at last. "I think she truly didn't know what Sendar planned, yet she is involved in his disgrace."

"As his Bondmate, she must have guessed something,"Spock replied. "And because of what Sendar did, we must wait until my next pon farr before we can Bond properly."

Kirk laid his hand over the restless one that played with I-Chiya's ears. "Even without the Bonding I belong to you," he said quietly. "It's getting late. Let's have supper, then go to bed. I... hunger for your touch."

Spock smiled. "I hunger too, Jim." Leaning together, they kissed, gently at first, then with increasing passion.

At last they broke apart. The sehlat gave a soft rumble and padded to lie in front of the fire, sensing they no longer needed his empathic aid.

Spock reached to the buzzer to summon a servant. "Supper in our room, Jim?"

"Mmm. That'd be nice," Kirk agreed after a startled pause. They'd never indulged themselves that way before. But now Spock was in truth L'landir and his own master, and could set his own customs.

The door opened. Spock looked around. "Ah, S'Trav," he said. "A light supper in our room, if you please. We will be retiring in a few minutes."

"Yes, sir." S'Trav bowed himself out. An older man who had known Spock's parents, he was one of the few Spock had retained after yesterday's near tragedy. The servants employed by Sendar had all been summarily dismissed with a wage settlement. Spock had not asked his Companion's opinion of the move, but it was one Kirk approved. Sendar's servants had all been subtly patronizing towards the Human.

Spock rose and held out his hand. Kirk took it and allowed himself to be pulled into a warm embrace. "Spock... Oh, Spock, I love you!"

"Jim... Companion, Bondmate... you are my life."

They ate quickly and prepared for bed without delay. Spock pulled his Companion back into his arms. "Jim," he murmured, kissing him.

Kirk sighed as he snuggled close, one hand caressing Spock's back. The Vulcan pulled Kirk on top of him. "It's your turn to take me, tonight," he reminded him.

"I know, but... " Kirk hesitated. "Spock, I do want to take you, but first... " 

"First?"

"They didn't forbid us to meld now," Kirk said. "I'd like you to meld with me - and take me first. To let me know something of what yesterday would have been like if Sendar hadn't blocked my mind. If you just satisfy yourself without making me come too, I can take you immediately after, the way I'm meant to..."

Spock pushed himself up on one elbow and looked down at Kirk's face. "You're right. It would give us something of the joy you should know." He leaned down and kissed Kirk's eyelids. "Now I know how well you will advise me, my Bondmate." He kissed Kirk's mouth lightly. "I would not have thought of it."

He reached for Kirk's mind and slid easily into it, this time completely welcome. He knew Kirk's joy in the contact, and allowed himself to be drawn deeper into the mental embrace.

"More," Kirk whispered. Spock leaned down again to kiss him, his tongue sliding into the willing mouth, and as it did, his mind penetrated deeper into the Human's. Kirk clung fiercely until they were forced to break apart in order to breathe.

"Jim, oh Jim," Spock murmured.

"Love me!" Kirk gasped.

The Vulcan ran his hands lightly over the responsive body, using the caresses he had learned over the years that gave his Companion the most pleasure. He nibbled gently on a firming nipple, feeling the Human's pleasure as if it were his own, feeling in Jim's mind the pleasure reflected back again. If this is how it feels with a mere mind meld, how much more will it be with a full Bond! he thought dizzily.

In the past, he had been able to continue caressing Jim, torturing him with delayed release, but now, he could not delay. He positioned himself, adjusting Kirk's position so that he was lying completely comfortably, and carefully penetrated the Human's body. Kirk sobbed in ecstasy as the firm rod of flesh slid deeply into him, raising his hips responsively. Spock began to thrust, slowly at first, then, as he felt his mind thrusting into Kirk's too, with increasing urgency. The Human responded avidly, body and mind urging themselves against the Vulcan greedily. Control was almost gone - almost, but not quite.

Spock felt Kirk's body quivering towards orgasm, and he reached quickly between their bellies, curled his hand round the Human's penis and gripped it firmly, gently but effectively killing his arousal. He was close to orgasm himself now, one final thrust, deep, deep into his Bondmate's body and mind, and he exploded into release. Kirk cried out once as he felt something deep inside his mind catch and hold close. The pleasure triggered his arousal once more. He needed his own release urgently. He had to feel Spock yielding to him. Had to!

Spock felt his urgency and surrendered to it. He pulled away, rolled onto his back and opened his legs wide, inviting entry. Kirk forced enough control on himself to enter slowly, feeling Spock's mind opening to him too. A moment of uncertainty, then he knew what to do. As his body thrust into Spock's he felt his mind thrusting too; felt Spock's mind pulling him closer and closer, wanting him, needing him as he needed Spock. Mind and body exploded together, filling Spock, filling him. He wanted this satisfaction to last forever, and caught at Spock's mind desperately, clinging to it. He was only half aware that Spock, too, cried out in ecstasy.

Slowly, slowly, rational thought returned. They were lying, limbs entwined, relaxed as they had never been before. Their minds were still linked; each was aware of the other's deep satisfaction, his utter happiness.

Finally Kirk raised his head to look at Spock. There was no need to speak. Their minds exchanged their thoughts.

Will it always be like that now?

Yes... and more, as we become accustomed to it.

I don't think 1 could have more and retain my sanity! I look forward to proving you wrong.

The mental contact makes all the difference. Yes. Jim... His thoughts were awed. Jim - we're Bonded. Properly Bonded.

But how? They said it took pon farr...

I know. But our minds are locked together. Totally.

Totally? Spock, they said a Human/Vulcan Bonding was never as total as a Vulcan/Vulcan one.

Yes. And it saddened me to think that you and I would never know the joy of being entirely one. That what we would have would be completely satisfying, but that something would be missing and we would never know what. But I know without any doubt that what we have is a full Bonding.

Because we were in control of what we were doing? Because each of us was able to take the other? 

It could be. Jim, we must tell Sorel of this.

Yes. It would add a new dimension to Fostering.

Our friends - the ones who came with you - they could all know this, too. I'm glad. Kirk leaned forward and kissed Spock sleepily.

Their locked minds drifted into sleep.

***

Spock was duly informed that Sendar's guilt had been established without difficulty. His confidence shaken by the discovery that Kirk had not killed or deserted Spock after all, he had made no real effort to defend himself. All his goods had been declared forfeit; he had been stripped of rank and banished from Sas-a-Shar and the neighboring provinces. T'Mara had been permitted to retain her property, but was banished with her husband. It had been established she had certainly known her husband planned something, though not any details. The one mitigating circumstance, which earned Sendar a degree of lenience, was that he had not acted for himself. With Spock dead, T'Sorn would be L'landir. Sendar had honestly believed his daughter, as the oldest woman of her generation, should be the L'landir instead of Spock.

T'Sorn, living happily with her husband-to-be, had known nothing of the plot, and was declared untouched by her father's shame.

This day, Spock had several routine matters to attend to, but at the same time, some business relating to the estate had to be discussed with the head farmer. The young L'landir admitted his relief that Sp'erl had not had to be replaced also, Sp'erl had held his position under the dead Sarek and still had many years of active life expectancy. Kirk had therefore gone off to speak to the farmer while Spock remained behind.

Sp'erl appreciated Kirk's candor in admitting his ignorance of the finer details of farming, accepting the experienced farmer's advice without hesitation, though taking the time to ask several key questions.

The discussion finished, Kirk authorized Sp'erl to initiate the suggested improvements and headed for home.

Spock looked up from his paperwork, smiling a welcome. The Human crossed to his Bondmate eagerly.

Spock slipped an arm around his waist. "Jim." They exchanged a lingering kiss. Kirk straightened and studied him. "I know that look. What's happened?"

"Sepek and Thelev."

"What about them? Pon farr?"

"Yes. They tried delaying Bonding until the second day - and it worked. They also are fully Bonded!" 

"I'm glad. So everyone else now will be taught to do that."

"Yes." Spock stretched. "Jim, I can't finish with you looking at me like that."

The Human smiled. "All right. How long do you need to finish it?"

"About ten minutes."

"Then I'll go get an aircar ready. I'll look for you in a quarter of an hour. I think we deserve some time off."

"Where do you propose going?"

"How about the Cactus Oasis? We haven't been there for ages."

"I've got a better suggestion. Let's go to the woodland my grandfather planted. There won't be anyone there, and the way I'm feeling I won't want anyone, even the monitors, to see what I intend doing."

Kirk's smile broadened. "I look forward to finding out what you intend doing," he murmured. "But somehow I think it's much the same as I have in mind..."

And it was...


End file.
